A New Hope
by linnell
Summary: Rentfic: A year in the life of Mark and the gang
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Well I made myself sit down and write tonight. I had no idea where I was going with this where I started, and it is sort of depressing. I talk about a few things I really don't know much about, so please forgive me. Read it, review it, let me know if it a bad idea or not. Thanks!  
  
Oh yeah, Jonathan Larson created them. Not me.  
  
  
  
I wrap my scarf tight around my neck as the wind whistles past. Another January in New York City. Another year to try and make something great out of, yet fail miserably once again. I bend over and place a rock on the tombstone; something my family always did when we visited my grandfather's grave. I always asked my mom why and she would always answer the same, 'respect'.  
  
I squat in front of the stone and trace my fingers over the markings. 'THOMAS B. COLLINS, Friend, Lover and Teacher'. I can't think of anyone who I respected more. "It was a year ago that we sad good-bye to you, Collins. An entire year. I thought I would make changes, I promised you I would finish my film. I broke the promise, Collins, I didn't mean to. It is just that with Roger getting sic. never mind. You don't need to hear my excuses. I'll make you proud, don't worry."  
  
"Mark?" I hear crunching of snow behind me. I turn around to Maureen's voice. She and Joanne have approached the gravestone holding a bunch of wildflowers.  
  
"Hey guys, how are you?" They both hug and kiss me. More out of politeness than friendship. The two of them have disappeared into their own world, and our relationship has waned.  
  
"We're ok." Joanne says, rubbing my back slightly. She bends over and places the flowers in front of the grave, the yellows and purples brightening the drab white. She lightly fingers the small stone, smiling to herself. She looks around and notes that I'm alone. "Where are Roger and Mimi?"  
  
I smile and shrug. Truth is, I didn't tell them. Neither of them can afford to come stand outside in the snow. I knew if I told them, there would be no convincing him to stay home.  
  
"Are they ok?" Maureen asks with a sense of urgency. I nod noncommittally. "Mark, what's going on?"  
  
"Nothing, they are fine. Really. Roger came home one day a few weeks ago with a cold and passed it to Mimi. They have just had trouble getting rid of it." I don't mention that a few weeks ago was really October, and the cold had turned into Pneumonia.  
  
I bring my hands to my mouth and blow on them, "Come on, let's start, it is really cold out here."  
  
"Ok, yeah." Joanne reaches into her jacket and pulls out a piece of paper. She begins to read the same prayer she did last year. It is an old African-American Hymn. Maureen cries as hard as she did last year, and I look away and kick the ground. Just like last year.  
  
When she finishes, we stand awkwardly in silence. I rub my hands together, trying to thaw them out. "Mark, where are your gloves?" Maureen scolds.  
  
"I don't have any." I stick my hands in my pockets, hoping to drop the conversation.  
  
"Do I need to knit you a pair of gloves?" Maureen bends over and picks up a few yellow flowers and places them in front of Angel's grave.  
  
"No, no, I'm fine." I glance over and Angel's tomb and mentally say hello.  
  
"Come on, I will. I still have some blue yarn left from the scarf."  
  
"You made him that scarf?" Joanne asks, sounding shocked.  
  
"Yeah, what was it, our first Christmas together? God, Mark, that was."  
  
"A long time ago, yeah, I know." We begin walking away from the cemetery.  
  
"I can't believe you still have it after all these years. You lose everything."  
  
I shrug. I don't want her to know how much it really means to me. That I know how long she worked on it, and how much effort she put into it. She really cared for me then. The next year, our last Christmas together, she bought me dinner at the Life Café. It was only an after I gave her a gift, a simple charm bracelet, that she even thought about buying me something.  
  
I almost felt, when I put the scarf on, I could go back to that first Christmas. It was the first year in the loft. Roger was working at a Christmas Tree Lot, so we had an actual live tree. Collins, Maureen and I made ornaments one night out of paper. Christmas Eve, we all got together and exchanged gifts. None of us could afford anything, so we agreed it had to be handmade. I gave everyone photographs. Collins made some sort of homemade liquor, that I'm sure was illegal in most states, and while we merrily got drunk, Roger led us in a sing-a-long consisting of Christmas Carols and old punk rock songs. Even Benny got into the action, though his gift wasn't homemade, it was an answering machine.  
  
Maureen decided to teach herself how to knit. The other guys got wool hats. None of them were even close to perfect. They were all practice for my scarf. I still don't know how she kept it a secret from me. I knew about the hats, and I assumed I was getting one too.  
  
"Mark. Mark!" Maureen interrupts my thoughts. "Here's the car."  
  
"Oh right. I guess I'll see you guys later then." I hug her and then Joanne.  
  
"Mark, are you sure we can't give you a ride? There is no sense in you taking the subway back to the village."  
  
"No, no, I'm fine. I enjoy it, really." They both shake their heads at me.  
  
"Send Roger and Mimi our love, ok? Tell them we hope they feel better."  
  
"Yeah ok, sure." I stand there and watch them pull away. I begin the walk back to the subway. I don't know why I didn't get a ride with them. Especially now when I am walking into the cold wind. I wrap the scarf around my face, trying to protect my nose and ears. Once I'm on a main road, I step inside a store to warm up. The clerk has a small TV he is watching. The picture is jumping and he's watching the news, but I step closer to watch. TV is a luxury that I haven't had in years.  
  
A commercial for the latest Julia Roberts movie comes on. I try and think of the last time I went to the movies. I honestly can't remember. Some filmmaker I am. Actually, can I call myself that anymore? I haven't picked up my camera since. well, since Collins' funeral.  
  
The News starts again, and the anchorwoman begins talking about a new treatment for AIDS patients. The Cocktail. I listen intently; hoping for some news of a cure, but this is just slows things down. Still, that has to be good news, right?  
  
I leave the store and jog to the subway station. I get on the train and ride back to Manhattan. Maybe if we could get Mimi and Roger on this new Cocktail, things will slow down. I close my eyes and allow myself to fantasize about a healthy Roger and Mimi. Roger could start playing with the band again and Mimi could take dancing lessons. They could begin talking about a future, instead of dreaming of one.  
  
About six months ago, Roger told me he really wanted to have kids someday. "I know it is impossible, I could never risk giving a baby this disease, but wouldn't it be great to be a dad?" He strummed his guitar dreamily as he spoke. "Promise me Mark, before I die, you'll have a kid, so I can at least be an uncle."  
  
"Roger, don't talk like that." I scolded.  
  
"You know what I mean. I think I would love your kid as much as I would mine."  
  
I smiled and nodded, "Need to find me a girl first."  
  
"Yeah, pal, how long has it been?" Then he started giving me a hard time about my sex life, or lack thereof.  
  
I finally exit the subway and walk the few blocks to our loft. I make it to the third flight of stairs when I hear it. That familiar noise that I have lived with now for over three months. One of them, or both of them, coughing so hard, you would swear they were going to send up their lung. It almost became background noise, and also a gentle reminder that they were there, and alive. Those rare times when they fell asleep and silence fell on the loft, I would get worried.  
  
I open the door, and Roger is sitting up, reading a magazine and Mimi is lying on his lap. She was the one coughing. "Hey guys. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine, better." Roger always replies the same way. "Where were you?"  
  
"I went to see Collins." Roger nods silently.  
  
"Damn you look cold, Mark. Let me make you some tea." He starts to move Mimi and get up, but I sit him down.  
  
"I'll make some. Don't worry." I go into the kitchen and fill the kettle with water. "So I just saw this thing on the news, about this new treatment."  
  
"The Cocktail?"  
  
"Yeah, you've heard of it?"  
  
"Yeah, Mimi's doctor told her about it a few months ago. Unfortunately, with neither of us having insurance, it is a little bit out of our price range."  
  
"How come you didn't tell me?" I ask, approaching them. Mimi begins to try and sit up.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"How come you didn't tell me about it?"  
  
"Why, what could you have done?" Roger asks seriously.  
  
"I don't know, get a real job, and make some money."  
  
"Mark, we couldn't ask that of you. You do so much for us, and you need to work on your film." Mimi whispers to me.  
  
"Fuck my film, there are more important things!" The whistle on the teakettle goes off and I walk over to the kitchen.  
  
"We won't have you sacrificing your work like that." Roger states. "Just drop it, we're fine. We're getting better, once we beat this flu."  
  
"Flu, Roger? You call this the flu? You guys have been sick for months, when was the last time you even went to the doctor?"  
  
"Just drop it, ok?" He stands up, "I'm going to go lay down. Mimi, do you want to come?" She starts coughing a little, but stands up and nods.  
  
She pats my arm, "Thanks for the offer, Mark, really. But that stuff is way too expensive." She looks over at Roger shutting the door behind him. "Not even Benny could afford to help us out. I asked him." She slowly walks to Roger's room.  
  
I flop down on the couch and close my eyes. There has to be a way to get this stuff for them. I can't bear the thought of tromping through the snow to visit their gravestones. 


	2. February

1 February  
  
I open the door as quietly as I can. The loft is pitch black. I kick off my shoes, remove my tie, and toss my jacket to where I think the couch should be. I miss. I feel around for the string pull on the light, pull and the room remains dark. The power must have blown again.  
  
"Mark, is that you?" Roger's voice echoes through the silent room.  
  
"Yeah, just me." Suddenly a flicker of light appears, with the smell of sulfur. "Where did you find the candle?"  
  
"Oh, I went to the store around the corner about bought some." He walks over to me and hands me one. I light it and go over to the couch.  
  
"So you are feeling better then?"  
  
"Yeah, we both are actually. Amazing what drugs can do, huh?"  
  
I raise my eyebrows at him. "Yeah, yeah."  
  
"Anyway, why are you so late? Did you work another double?"  
  
"Yeah, Pauline wanted the night off, so I said I'd work for her."  
  
"Mark, that's three doubles in a row."  
  
"You have been keeping track? I touched."  
  
"Well yeah, I mean, you are never around here anymore."  
  
"We need the money. I don't mind it, really."  
  
"You are working too hard. You haven't touched your film. You promised us that you would start working on it again."  
  
"And I will. Jesus, stop nagging me, I had a long day."  
  
He shakes his head at me, "Well, how did you do today?"  
  
"Not bad for a Thursday, about $250."  
  
"No shit, really? Wow, who knew waiting tables could be so lucrative."  
  
"Yeah, well…" I reach in my pocket and place the wad of money on the table. "It's mostly dollar bills, but that should pay off the last doctor bill. Maybe if I keep working doubles we could actually afford heat and electricity."  
  
Roger laughs, "In this dump? Never. It would lose its charm."  
  
I stand up, "Well, I'm going to bed, another double tomorrow. I told Reese that I would take his lunch shift tomorrow and Pauline wants another night off."  
  
"I thought tomorrow was your day off."  
  
"Yeah, well, you know how it is." I shrug and walk towards my room. "Fridays are big money making days."  
  
"But Mark, it's Mimi's birthday."  
  
"Oh right, twenty-one. How could I forget? Well maybe you guys can come up to the restaurant?"  
  
"We tried that once, remember? They wouldn't let us in. We weren't dressed right."  
  
"Well dress up then!" I can see his glare even with the low candlelight. "Look, I have to work. Mimi will understand." I go in and close my door behind me.  
  
I lay down on my bed and watch the lights from cars outside drape across my ceiling. My eyelids feel heavy and I close my eyes. One thing about working so hard, I don't have trouble sleeping anymore.  
  
A knock startles me, "Mark?" Roger opens my door, the light of his candle brightening the room a little. "You asleep already?"  
  
"Mmm…" I roll over towards him. "What's up?"  
  
"Look, you know that Mimi and I appreciate you helping us out. But we are both feeling better now. I called Tony, the band is going to practice on Sunday. He already has us lined up at CBGB's on Tuesday."  
  
"Really?" I sit up a little, "Are you sure you can handle going to a club though? All that smoke…"  
  
"Fuck Mark, listen to me! Stop acting like my fucking mother!"  
  
"I'm listening, I'm just saying, you just got over Pneumonia. I don't think it is a good idea for you to…"  
  
"I don't think I asked you your opinion!"  
  
"Then what the fuck am I working so hard for, if you are just going to turn around and make yourself sick?"  
  
"Oh Jesus H. Christ!"  
  
"Roger, I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I'm just tired."  
  
"You have to stop putting me before you."  
  
"You do bring up a good point though."  
  
"What?" I sit up completely.  
  
"This past month all you have done is work and give me and Mimi your money. Have you kept any for yourself?"  
  
"Sure, I keep about twenty bucks a week."  
  
"Great, so you can take the subway back and forth. Stop being so fucking noble."  
  
"Roger, I'm really tired, and I have a long day tomorrow. Can we talk about this later?" My head starts to pound.  
  
"Fine, whatever. We're not done though." I barely hear him leave, as I fall asleep.  
  
  
  
Since we have no power, my alarm doesn't go off. As soon as I open my eyes, I know I'm late. I can just tell. I grab my clothes and run into the bathroom. I almost collide with Mimi, who is brushing her teeth. "Oh, sorry… I'm late for work." I turn around to leave.  
  
"Rut rabout ry rirthray?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She spits into the sink, "What about my birthday?"  
  
"Oh, right, Happy Birthday, Mimi." I go over and give her a hug. "I just woke up, but I remembered."  
  
"That's not what I mean, I thought we were going out today. I even called Maureen and Joanne and some of the girls from the club."  
  
"Sorry, but I told a few people I would work for them. We need the money."  
  
"Mark, come on, you have been working too hard, and we never see you."  
  
"I know, I know. No more extra shifts, I promise. But I have to go in today."  
  
"When is your next day off?"  
  
"Friday."  
  
"Today is Friday."  
  
"I know, I meant next Friday." She throws the towel she was using down in disgust.  
  
"You know what? Forget it!" She storms away.  
  
"Mimi, I have to…" I hear her slam the bedroom door. I quickly shower and get dressed for work.  
  
As I put my tie on and try, unsuccessfully to make my hair not stick up, there is a knock. "Yeah, come in."  
  
"Hey." It's Roger. "Mimi's really pissed off, what happened?"  
  
"She's mad that I have to work." I'm all set to go, but he is now blocking the doorway.  
  
"Look, try and get out early, ok? You can meet us later. When was the last time we hung out?"  
  
I shake my head, "I don't know."  
  
"We miss you."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I got to go. I'll see you guys later."  
  
"Promise me you'll come home early."  
  
"I'll see, Roger. Come on, I have to go."  
  
I didn't get out early. In fact, I was the last guy to leave. Usually the bartender closes up, but he had picked up a girl and wanted to take her out. It is now well past two and I'm just getting home. "Roger? Mimi?" Silence.  
  
. I kick off my shoes, remove my tie, and toss my jacket to where I think the couch should be. I notice the flashing red light on the answering machine. With all of my effort, I reach over and hit "Play". Four new messages.  
  
"Mark, it is 9:30, we are leaving the Life now and going to The Cutting Room. Meet us there."  
  
The second message, I can hardly hear, I know it is Roger, but it is just mumbling with lots of background noise. Third message.  
  
"It is 11:30. The restaurant closed a half hour ago, where the fuck are you? Listen, we are going to a party on… WHERE IS IT? Oh, It's on Bleeker and 6th. 541 Bleeker, third floor. Just go inside and find us. Later."  
  
"Mark, where the hell are you?" This time it is Mimi's voice, and her tone alerts me. "Roger's… I don't know, something's wrong with Roger. I left him alone for about 15 minutes and I don't know. I'm at the hospital now. Mark, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!? St Vincent's, in the Emergency Room. Mark, get here…"  
  
I don't hear the rest of the message because I'm already out the door. 


	3. March

1 March  
  
I don't know if I'll ever get used to the silence. The quiet is going to make me mad. No more coughing, no more guitar playing, no more fighting. No more laughter.  
  
He almost didn't make it.  
  
They thought he was gone before I made it to the hospital. He took some sort of drug. One of the things people make in their basement. 'A mood enhancer' Mimi said. She took it too; they were celebrating her birthday and the fact that they were better.  
  
"The guy said it was herbal, Mark. I swear. We never would have taken if we knew…" She buried her head in my chest.  
  
After he got out of the hospital, he and Mimi decided to move out on their own.  
  
"We've almost lost each other too many times," One of them said while the clung to each other, "We need to take advantage of the days we have." I listened and nodded and told them they were doing the right thing. They were of course, I knew that, but they didn't worry about me. How could I ask them to? They needed each other.  
  
I apparently do not need anybody.  
  
Shit, there I go feeling sorry for myself again. Truth is, I was working. A lot. Now more than ever. So the fact the Roger hasn't called me since he moved two weeks ago, is easily ignorable. I only come home to sleep. I even eat at the restaurant. The nights that I don't close I usually go out with a few of the other waiters. We just go and have some drinks. It is actually very nice. No worrying about HIV, no one complaining about money and no one ignoring me.  
  
Still, I can't help but out of place. They all are college students, or recent graduates trying to land a 'real' job. This is my 'real' job. After only two semesters at Brown, and just slacking off between now and then, I didn't have much to offer. It amazes me that they even hired me.  
  
I shouldn't say slacking off though. I was working on my film. And taking care of Roger. And Mimi. But now that they are gone, I have to wonder, how do I take care of myself? I still worry about them. What happens if last month wasn't a fluke? What if one of them starts using again? Before long, they both will be. What if one or both of them get sick? What if Roger never calls me again?  
  
Before they left, with the last of their belongings packed into the van that the band uses, and Mimi waiting in the passenger seat, Roger took me aside. "Look Mark, you know I'm not good with words."  
  
"Roger, you're a songwriter."  
  
"Yeah, but, without music… anyway, I just want you to know you're my best friend. And if I took care of you even half as well as you did me, well… I'm a better person than I ever thought I could be."  
  
"Thanks. Now, go take care of Mimi."  
  
He hugged me quickly, and then without looking back, drove out of our neighborhood.  
  
They didn't move far. Just across the river to Jersey City. It was the only place they could afford a one bedroom. Still, with my schedule lately, it might as well be across the country.  
  
So here I am, on the subway back from the restaurant. I feel a little drunk from the few beers that I had with some of the guys. There was one waitress who came out with us tonight, Theresa. I close my eyes and think about her and I smile. I'm not sure what it is. I wouldn't have picked her out of the crowd as being the most beautiful, but when she is in a small group, she just shines. She has a way of telling a story…  
  
Maybe there is life after Roger after all.  
  
Once I get off the subway, it is a quick walk back to the loft. I expect to enter to the silence again. I hate that noise more than anything.  
  
The first thing I notice is the red blinking light. I turn on the lamp and walk towards the answering machine. Two new messages, I press the button.  
  
"Mark! It's me, Roger, you know in case you forgot my voice. Call me back. Our number is 767-976-8750. I have great news…"  
  
"Dude, where are you? I called the restaurant and it was already closed. We're in the city, we'll stop bye."  
  
Almost on cue, the doorknob begins to turn and in walks Roger and Mimi. She runs over and hugs me, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist.  
  
"Mark!" She kisses my face all over. "I've missed you!"  
  
"Yeah, man, she really has. She keeps nagging that we should come and see you."  
  
"Well, I wanted him to call you and he never would."  
  
"Yeah, well because the guy is always working." Mimi climbs off of me, and goes over to Roger.  
  
"Look, soon you are going to be working a lot to, and if you use that for an excuse you aren't going to have any friends left at all!"  
  
"I haven't even left yet and you are already giving me shit? What the fuck?" Roger's voice is now rising.  
  
Automatically I step between them. "Hey, calm down. What's the problem?"  
  
"Nothing, just something finally good happens to me, and she is giving me shit." He waves his arms in her direction and steps away.  
  
"I am not! Haven't I been out celebrating with you all night?"  
  
I clear my throat, "Celebrating?" They don't even hear me.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure you have. I knew you were pretending to be happy for me."  
  
"How were you celebrating?"  
  
"I AM happy for you! What do you want me to do, jump around and start cheerleading? God, Roger, I'm just saying that Mark is your best friend, and it already has been two weeks since you talked to him."  
  
"What were you celebrating?" I continue sheepishly.  
  
"Mark knows I'm his friend, I don't have to talk to him fifteen times a day. Guys aren't like that."  
  
"Oh of course, guys can't let others into how they're feeling."  
  
"No, most guys don't talk about their feelings. Mark and I talk about a lot of things, but it is ok if we don't talk to each other for a few weeks."  
  
I'm starting to miss the silence.  
  
I climb up on the table in the middle of the room. "WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP AND TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" I shout.  
  
They both look at me blankly.  
  
"You know what?" Mimi huffs, "You two should talk, I'm outta here…" She pushes past Roger and leaves.  
  
I sit down on the table and swing my legs. "So what was that all about?"  
  
"Nothing, everything, I don't know. We haven't been getting along all that great I guess."  
  
"Why? What's going on?"  
  
He comes over and sits on the table next to me. This is a position that we have had thousands of talks in our lives, but tonight, something is different. We both know that things have changed.  
  
"Well, now that we are both feeling better, our differences have resurfaced. I've been practicing with the band a lot, and she's been giving me a lot of grief. I just can't stand to be with someone 24/7, you know?"  
  
I nod slightly, "So what's the big news?"  
  
"Oh!" He hops off the table excitably, "The band got signed to a record label." The grin on his face reaches from ear to ear. I automatically jump off the table and grab my camera and turn it on him. "Yeah, Tony did all this legwork while I was sick. As soon as we were able to play again, the A&R rep came and watched." He steps closer to me, and pushes the camera down, "Mark, it is a lot of money."  
  
"Yeah? Roger…"  
  
"No, I mean, more money than we ever imagined. I'll be able to pay you back for the past few months, and Mimi and I will be able to get a nicer place. I could even get you into a nicer place."  
  
I shake my head unconsciously, "No need."  
  
"Yeah, well, we'll talk about it later. I just can't believe it." He pushes himself on the table again. "My dream is finally coming true."  
  
"I'm so proud of you." We sit and smile at each other in silence for a few minutes. Both silently enjoying the good news, and quietly celebrating Roger's achievement. 


	4. April

April  
  
I can't even sleep in on my first day off in three weeks. I have to get up and help Roger move his stuff back to the loft. Neither of them will tell me what really happened but they 'need a break' from each other.  
  
So much for appreciating what you have while you have it.  
  
Still, I can't help but be excited to have Roger back in the loft. I know that I can't get myself too excited, because he won't be there a lot. With the record deal came a tour of the East Coast, and if it does well, then the West Coast. He is playing tonight at Bowery Ballroom and then tomorrow takes off for New Haven. So it looks like I'll be living with this stuff more than him.  
  
Which is ok, because well, I haven't been quite sleeping alone lately. That waitress, Theresa, she and I have gotten close. I don't know if it is just a physical thing or more, but one night she was complaining that her housemate's boyfriend was over and she didn't want to go home, so I invited her to stay here. She came home with me, we talked and before I knew it, we slept together. Since that night, if we both close the restaurant, she comes home with me. I don't even have to invite her anymore.  
  
The strange thing is, I haven't told anyone about her. I'm not sure why exactly… well yeah I am. She isn't like anyone else I have ever been interested in, and the truth is, I'm not sure if I am. I mean, I'm attracted to her, and she is really funny, but there is something about her. I guess I'm not sure what the others will think.  
  
Plus, I like having my own little secret.  
  
The alarm got violently fills the room with sound, but I'm awake anyway. I roll over Theresa and fumble around to turn it off. She moans and stretches and curls herself around me.  
  
"No work…" She whispers.  
  
"Yeah, but I have to help Roger move his things today, remember?" She doesn't move stays like a corpse when I move my arm from under her. "I have to take the train to Jersey City"  
  
"Jersey, can you imagine living there?"  
  
"Hey, I thought that was where you grew up." I laugh at her.  
  
"No, Pennsylvania." I nod, even though I really don't remember. She sits up, making sure she covers herself with the sheet. "So I will finally get to meet Roger tonight, huh?"  
  
"Well, probably not. We're going to be moving all day and he's got a show tonight."  
  
"I am only working the lunch shift today." She bends over and finds her bra and panties, neatly folded next to the bed. That is one quirk that I just don't understand. She begins dressing herself as she continues; "We could go to the show."  
  
"Oh God no, you would never fit in there." I realize what I'm saying while the words are exiting my mouth, "I mean…"  
  
"No, you're right. I won't fit in with your grungy punk rock artist friends."  
  
"Theresa, that isn't what I meant. I just don't think it is your scene."  
  
"Fine whatever." She climbs out of bed and leaves the room and goes into the bathroom. She leaves the door open as she brushes her bob. "You know, it would be nice if we went out sometime, instead of just working and coming back here and having sex."  
  
This is the first time she has ever acted this way. Everything we did, until now, was so low key, that her attitude makes me speechless. I just stand there and gawk at her.  
  
"Mark, I like you, you are a really nice guy. But I need more than this."  
  
"I… I thought things were going well."  
  
"Sure, for you. Your getting laid and not having to put in any work."  
  
"I'm… sorry… I didn't know."  
  
She takes a deep breath and walks towards me. "No, I'm sorry. I don't know I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something."  
  
"The bed is against the wall, there is only one side." I smile shyly at her.  
  
"I guess it's just that…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind. Look, I got to go home to get ready for work." She kisses my cheek.  
  
I walk her over to the door; "I'll see you tomorrow at the restaurant." She nods and walks out.  
  
I replay the whole scene in my mind. I just don't understand the change. Our relationship, if you can call it that was so laid back. It was completely casual and I liked that. She had no idea about Roger and Mimi's sickness. I have never told her about Collins or Angel. I talk about my ex Maureen a lot, but I never told her that now she is a lesbian.  
  
Maybe I have been too closed off with her. But then, I'm not even sure if I like her. It has just been nice having someone be with me. I couldn't take the silence anymore. But now that Roger's back… I don't know.  
  
I grab my scarf and head out the door. It is cool for April, but not cold. The scarf is a little too much, but I like to wear it. I start walking towards the subway, still thinking about Theresa and why things have to change. I really like her as a person, she is fun and has a good sense of humor, but could she be a girlfriend? She's a scientist and doesn't get art at all. When she first asked me about what I was doing before getting the job, I answered 'I was a filmmaker'. She laughed, "No, really, what were you doing to support yourself?" She can't even imagine living poor. Not to say she is rich, but she works hard to pay for school and her apartment. She would never understand squatting or living without heat.  
  
Unexpectedly, a motorcycle comes roaring behind me. I jump away from the road, because it seems it is going to hit me. I look quickly and recognize the body on the bike, even if I can't see the face behind the helmet.  
  
The engine cuts off. "Maureen." She takes off the helmet and shakes her hair out. She still looks good.  
  
"Mark!" She climbs off the bike and gives me a hug. "I recognized the scarf before I recognized you. Where you off to?"  
  
"Roger and Mimi's place. He's moving back to the loft. I guess things didn't work out with them."  
  
"Why? What happened?" She fakes a pout, but I know her well enough to know that she is digging for dirt.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know. Roger called me yesterday and asked me to help him move. So that's what I'm doing."  
  
"Hmm…" She looks at me again, "Mark, it is in the sixties, why on earth are you wearing that scarf?" She grabs the ends of it and forces me closer to her.  
  
"I don't know… habit I guess."  
  
She looks at me strangely. "I thought you accepted the fact we weren't getting back together a long time ago."  
  
I pull the scarf away from her grip, "Yeah, I did. I just like to wear it."  
  
She looks away for a second. "Mark, I should just tell you…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I… I didn't make the scarf. I bought it for you at The Gap a few hours before I gave it to you."  
  
I look at her surprised. "What?"  
  
"Well, I didn't think you would still have it years later. You always lose everything…" Her voice turns into a high-pitched whine.  
  
"Why did you let me think you made it?"  
  
"I don't know… you assumed… I played along. I'm sorry!"  
  
I shake my head and pull off the scarf. I hand it to her, "Here, I don't want it."  
  
"Mark, I don't want your grungy old scarf."  
  
"Tell Joanne I say hi, I have to go." I turn and walk away from her.  
  
"Mark! Mark, come back." I just keep walking until I reach the corner and turn.  
  
The wind blows against my bare neck as I walk out of the PATH station. I spot Roger sitting there strumming his guitar, his case wide open.  
  
"Make any money?" I startle him.  
  
"Oh… hey… yeah, about…" he counts the change, "A buck fifty. Can I buy you a coffee?"  
  
I laugh, "No, I'm good." He stands up and gives me a hug.  
  
"Thanks for coming. All my stuff is packed, so I just need a hand loading the van."  
  
"Hmm… seems like I just did this a few weeks ago."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Mimi and I have had a difference of opinion, that's all. We can't seem to get past it."  
  
"What's the difference?" We start walking back to the van.  
  
"Nothing, it doesn't matter."  
  
"Yeah, it does. What's going on?"  
  
I stand outside the van refusing to get in until he tells me.  
  
"Fine, just get in, I'll tell you while I'm driving." We get in and he pulls out of the station. "Ok, so the band got this record deal, you know? And I'm all happy about it. Mimi said she was happy until the notion of a tour comes up. I tell her it is only for a few weeks. She wants to go, I tell her no, and we fight."  
  
"Well, I can see her point. You guys moved out here to be with each other, and then you decide to leave."  
  
"Yeah, well, that isn't what really pissed her off."  
  
"What was it then?"  
  
"The record company is really interested in us. They love our sound and our look. But they needed something to separate us from the rest of the rock bands out there. So they decided to…"  
  
I look at him sideways, "What?"  
  
"They are going to publicize about my HIV status. They think it would be a good hook to get people to know my name and the band. You know, rock musician living with AIDS and all that shit."  
  
"Are you fucking kidding me?"  
  
"No, and I don't want to hear it."  
  
"Roger, that's selling out. Worse than that, it is… it is… I don't know, just wrong."  
  
"Why? I mean, I am the one being outted so to speak. I don't care. About time this fucking disease worked for me instead of against me."  
  
"But… I mean…"  
  
"See?" He interrupts, "You can't even argue against it! Neither can Mimi. She just stopped talking to me or starts to yell things in Spanish. We haven't talked in a week."  
  
I shake my head as I watch beat up houses pass by. "I don't know, this doesn't seem like a good idea to me…" 


	5. May

1 MAY  
  
"Mark! Mark! Did you see this shit?" Mimi storms into the loft and throws down a copy of The Village Voice in my lap. I scan the page quickly, and my eyes fall on the article.  
  
"Hungarian" Singer Not So "Well"  
  
  
  
It was three years ago when Roger Davis, then 22, found out that he was HIV+. He had everything then, a band, a girlfriend, and a heroin addiction.  
  
"My girlfriend was getting sick and finally went to the doctor. I never saw her alive after that. I came home from a gig and found her in the bathroom. She had slit her wrists."  
  
What followed then was a six month long battle for recovery where Davis became a recluse.  
  
"I never left my loft. My roommate would beg me to go out, but I just couldn't. I couldn't believe that I had this disease, and I didn't see any reason to keep living."  
  
He finally snapped out of it that Christmas with the help of friends.  
  
Less then a year later, after losing a close friend to AIDS, Davis relocated to Santa Fe, only to return to New York in two months. It was then that he contacted his former bandmates, all who had moved on to different projects, and convinced them to reform The Well Hungarians.  
  
"I was playing in a band where I had no creative input, and I was bored." Says the bassist, Tony Malucci. "Though honestly, when Roger called, I wasn't sure about starting up the band with him." Malucci speaks about Davis' erratic behavior during the last year of the Hungarians existence. "He would only show up to half the rehearsals, and sometimes when we had gigs, he came so f*cked up, that he couldn't even play."  
  
But Davis convinced him that he was now clean and sober. "I haven't touched heroin since I was diagnosed. After over a year of being blocked, I was able to write songs again. I was anxious to get the band back together and start playing in front of people."  
  
"The band was a little concerned about my HIV status. I explained to them that I am just as healthy as any other guy in their early 20's."  
  
Yet, Davis did end up in the hospital earlier this year in a drug related incident. "It was a mistake, someone gave me a pill that they told me was completely herbal. It reacted badly with my meds. I was out the next day, it was no big deal."  
  
The Hungarians have just recently signed with Generic Brand Records and are currently touring the East Coast in support of their new CD.  
  
"I know I don't have all the time in the world. I want to somehow leave my mark, leave something behind for people to remember me. The best way I know how is with my music."  
  
  
  
You can catch The Well Hungarians tonight at the Bowery Ballroom. All ages, $9 at the door.  
  
  
  
I tighten my fist around the paper, crumbling it.  
  
"Did you know he was coming back?"  
  
I shake my head, "I haven't heard from him since he left."  
  
She falls on the couch next to me. "Oh God, I don't know what I'm going to do when I see him.  
  
I slide over to her and put my arm around her, squeezing her shoulders slightly. "Me either."  
  
"He's going to be so pissed when he finds out I'm back in this building."  
  
I laugh, "He's going to be so pissed when he finds out HOW you got back in the building."  
  
"Oh be quiet. I know you only think I got back with Benny because I couldn't afford my rent.  
  
"Why else would you get back with him?"  
  
"Why not? He's good looking, has a great body, and he treats me good."  
  
"Yeah, and he's married."  
  
She sighs, "Technicality." She rips the paper from my hands. "I just want to have fun." She reads the article again, "I can't fucking believe him." She throws the paper on the floor.  
  
"I don't know, I guess becoming famous was more important to him that we ever thought."  
  
"But it isn't! Or at least it wasn't! All he wanted was to write and play music. Now, I don't know what he wants."  
  
"Fame, money, girls…" Mimi shoots me a look, "Sorry, I'm just saying."  
  
"What happened to being a bohemian and starving for your art?"  
  
"I guess I have that taken care of."  
  
"Oh Mark, your film is wonderful, you know that. Fuck anyone who tells you different."  
  
"I guess." I think for a minute, "Mimi, are you upset about the publicity thing, or the fact that he left."  
  
She shrugs, "I don't know, both I guess. You?"  
  
I nod in agreement, "Both."  
  
"At least he mentioned you."  
  
I look at he blankly, "Huh?"  
  
She picks up the paper and points. "My roommate would beg me to go out. No mention of the girl who inspired him to write his first song in over a year."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure he did, they just probably edited out."  
  
"I doubt it." She sighs again. "I just wish I didn't miss him."  
  
We both hear the footsteps at the same time.  
  
"Shit." She stands quickly and pulls down her skirt and fluffs her hair. "I'm not ready to see him. I look awful."  
  
"Calm down, you look great." But I felt nervous too.  
  
"Honey I'm home!" The door opens and Roger enters the loft with a big smile. He drops his guitar and notices Mimi. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He goes over to her and tries to kiss her, but she turns away. He pretends nothing happened and goes towards me, reaching out his hand. I go to shake it, but he pulls me in for a bear hug. "Mark, good to see you."  
  
"Hey Rog. Welcome home."  
  
"It's good to be back. I missed New York."  
  
Mimi stands there staring at him. She has one hip out and her arms folded. "Nice of you to let us know when you were coming back."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Then he looks at her and scowls, "What are you doing here anyway?"  
  
"I live here. Well downstairs, and I was visiting my friend, Mark."  
  
"You live in this building again? What, are you fucking Benny again?"  
  
"Oh fuck off!"  
  
"Christ, what I'm gone five minutes and you're back with him?"  
  
She glares at him and starts swearing in Spanish. She is still ranting while she leaves the loft.  
  
"What a fucking whore."  
  
"Roger! That's Mimi you're talking about."  
  
"Yeah, and she's a whore. How long was I gone for before she was fucking him?"  
  
"I don't know, how long were you were gone before you hooked up with a random groupie?"  
  
He smirks and shrugs. He then spots the paper, now resting on the couch. "Oh, is The Voice? There is supposed to be an article about the band in here."  
  
"Yeah, right there."  
  
He grabs it and reads it silently.  
  
"Wow, that's a great article, don't you think?"  
  
I shrug.  
  
"Look, Mark, I know you don't believe in what we are doing, but at least you could support me. Do you think I should I be hiding the fact that I have AIDS?"  
  
"HIV." I correct him. "No, but you shouldn't be using it to sell CDs."  
  
"No one would buy a CD just because the singer is dying. But curiosity gets them in the door. They hear the music. They dig it and they buy the CD." He smiles. "And a t-shirt."  
  
"A t-shirt? You have t-shirts now?"  
  
He nods excitably and reaches into his bag. He pulls out a black short sleeve t-shirt with The Well Hungarians logo and a picture of the band. "That's for you."  
  
"Oh gee, thanks."  
  
"Why can't you be happy for me?"  
  
"I don't know. Are you happy?"  
  
"Yeah, I had a blast on the road. It was so much fun and I didn't have to worry about anything."  
  
"Did you take your meds?"  
  
"Yeah, mostly."  
  
"Mostly?"  
  
"Well, sometimes I forgot. But I'm fine. I'm healthy. I didn't get sick the whole time."  
  
"Huh." I don't know what to say.  
  
"What about you? How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm ok."  
  
"Still working like a maniac?"  
  
I shrug. I don't want to tell him that I quit the week before. "Not really."  
  
"Been working on your film?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
He laughs as he pulls out his guitar from the case. "Then what have you been doing?"  
  
"Well, I was seeing someone…"  
  
"…I can't believe Mimi ran back to Benny." He begins strumming the guitar. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"  
  
"Nothing. I've been doing nothing."  
  
"Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you come to the gig tonight and film? You haven't done that in a long time. It would be really cool. The club should be packed. Our agent said it is practically sold out."  
  
"Nah, I'm ok." I pick up my camera. "I have enough footage of The Well Hungarians."  
  
"Yeah, well, I didn't want to tell you this, but fuck it. They want us to make a video and I think I convinced them to let you direct it."  
  
"Me? Why?"  
  
"Because that's what you do, isn't it?"  
  
"I make documentaries. Not rock videos."  
  
"Well you can just document the band. Come on, it is a great opportunity."  
  
"I don't know…"  
  
"Just say you'll come tonight. You can meet Randy."  
  
"Randy?"  
  
"Our agent. He's really cool. Then you can film some shots of the crowd and us. It will be great."  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
"Come on Mark, for me?" He looks at me and he knows he got me. I can't say no.  
  
"Fine, I'll go. But I'm not making any videos."  
  
"We'll see about that." He says laughing.  
  
I pick up the newspaper, crumble it and toss it in the garbage. 


	6. June

1 June  
  
"Mark, Maureen called. Again." Roger is in his usual spot, sitting on the table, guitar in his lap.  
  
"That's nice." I throw my jacket off and slump onto the couch.  
  
"She really wants to talk to you. How come you are blowing her off?"  
  
"Because." I fall back down on the couch.  
  
"Gee, you're in a good mood." Roger strums his guitar harshly. I throw him a dirty look. "What?"  
  
"Just… just be quiet. Ok?"  
  
"So I guess the job hunt didn't go well, huh?"  
  
"No, it didn't."  
  
"Look, I can lend you some money."  
  
"No thanks."  
  
"Or, I could get you a job."  
  
"I know, Roger." I roll my eyes.  
  
"Mark, come on! How great would it be to work together? Your film, my music. It is so perfect!"  
  
"Yes, I know. You've told me this one hundred times."  
  
"Well, just agree to do it and I'll shut up about it."  
  
I sit up and look at him. "I told you no. Can you just drop it?"  
  
"Come on, this would get you some great exposure."  
  
"I don't care, I make documentaries, not rock videos."  
  
The conversation continues on, the same one we've had at least once a day for the past month. Roger just doesn't understand how I can say no to this opportunity.  
  
"Mark, I put my ass on the line to get you this chance."  
  
"I didn't ask you to."  
  
"Fine, I give up." He puts the guitar down and goes over to the phone. "Last chance, you sure you don't want to do this?"  
  
"Yup, I'm sure."  
  
"Okay…" He dials a number, "Randy? Hey it's Roger. Davis. From the Well Hungarians? Yeah, well, my roommate decided he can't direct the video. Ok. Ok. Yeah. Ok, thanks." He holds the phone for a few moments and drops it on the receiver. He rushes past me on the couch, grabs his guitar and throws in the case.  
  
"Where you going?"  
  
"Nowhere."  
  
"Roger, what is it?"  
  
"Nothing that you should worry about." He snaps. His face is red and he glares at me. "We don't get a video."  
  
"What?"  
  
He drops his guitar. "Randy said our CD isn't selling that well and no radio stations are playing it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I guess I thought if I handed them a director, who would work for cheap, he would be more willing."  
  
"Cheap? I thought you said I'd be making a lot of money."  
  
"Well a lot to you is cheap to them." I ponder this for a second and he continues. "I don't know, maybe we aren't good enough."  
  
"You said your shows were selling out."  
  
"Yeah, but no one was buying CDs."  
  
"But you said…"  
  
"Forget what I said! It doesn't matter." He picks up his guitar and heads to the door. "I'll be back later."  
  
As he leaves, the phone starts ringing again. I screen.  
  
"Mark, honey, it is Maureen. Call me! We haven't talked in…"  
  
Before I can debate it, I pick up the phone.  
  
"Maureen?"  
  
"Mark! Where have you been? We haven't talked in forever!"  
  
"Hmm, I hadn't noticed." I grab the phone and drag over to the table and hop on top. "What did you want?"  
  
"Are you mad at me?"  
  
"Why would I be?" I shake her head. Does she not even care?  
  
"I don't know. We just never went that long without talking or seeing each other. Not even when I broke…"  
  
"Maureen… the fucking scarf, ok?"  
  
"You'll still hung up on that?"  
  
"Yeah. I am."  
  
"Shit, I knew I should have never have told you."  
  
"You should have never lied to me to begin with!"  
  
"Mark, it was years ago! Does it really matter?"  
  
I think about that Christmas where everything was perfect. How I had such hopes for the future and was truly happy. I thought Maureen and I were going to be together forever.  
  
"Mark, you there?"  
  
"Yeah, sorry."  
  
"That's ok. So ask me about my good news!"  
  
I take a deep sigh, "What is your good news?"  
  
"I got a part in a play! A lead! It is non-equity and off-off Broadway, but still."  
  
"That's great, congratulations." I smile in spite of myself.  
  
"You'll come right?"  
  
"Yeah, when is it?"  
  
"Next week. Bring Roger too."  
  
Bring Roger. Doubtful. We hardly talk anymore unless it is about the video.  
  
"Ok, I'll try."  
  
"I'll call you later honey! Love ya!" She hangs up before I can get another word in.  
  
What is it about Maureen that I just can't let go? One of the reasons I ended it with Theresa was that she didn't make me feel how Maureen did. What if no one ever will? What was it about her, about us, that made it so magical? I decide to search for answers.  
  
I go into my bedroom and tear through my closet. Boxes and boxes are piled in the back, filled with old scripts, old reels, and even a few videos. Nothing is labeled of course, but I do have an idea of which box I'm looking for. I pull it out and blow the dust off.  
  
I push the projector into the living room and plug it in, holding my breath that it doesn't cause the power to go out. I grab the box of old reels and randomly pick one out.  
  
As the projection flashes across the wall, I see my first view of the loft. Benny is unloading boxes, yelling at me to turn off the camera. Collins comes into the screen and takes a box from Benny and waves. Collins. Wow, he looks so young and healthy. The camera bounces up the stairs and into the loft. Collins waves his arms around grandly, as if we are entering a mansion, instead of a cramped apartment. I panned the camera past Roger and April, who really didn't seem too interested in us.  
  
I stop the film at a shot of Collins pulling Roger off the couch. I didn't know that Collins had AIDS at the point. Roger may have already had it to by then. I never could have imagined how much my life was going to change. AIDS was only something I learned about in health class, not something I thought I would have to deal with.  
  
I stop the reel and take it down, and put on another. This one the image is jumpy and dark, but I recognize it. It is from a party we had for Collins' 25th birthday. The loft was packed with people. Maureen was there that night, we had just started dating. That night, since she didn't really know anyone, she stuck by me, and flirted with my camera.  
  
I watch the screen flicker with images of her modeling and turning and performing for me. People randomly walk by and wave to the camera, offering me beers, dancing with Maureen and just having fun.  
  
Suddenly, I can't see anything, because Roger has come home and opened the door, letting in the light from the hallway.  
  
"Hey, what are you doing?" He closes the door and I look up from the screen.  
  
"Oh nothing, just watching some old stuff." I move to turn off the projector.  
  
"No, don't, I want to watch too."  
  
"Ok."  
  
He sits down on the couch near me. We watch Maureen twirl around some more.  
  
"When is this from?"  
  
"Collins 25th. That party we had. Do you remember?"  
  
"Uh, not really. I was a little…"  
  
"Fucked up?" I finish for him.  
  
"Yeah." He laughs quietly.  
  
The camera finally pulls away from Maureen and moves towards Roger's room. A red light blinds the camera for a moment. I reach up and turn the switch off.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Nothing. I just didn't think you would want to see the next part."  
  
"Why? Is it April? It's fine, play it."  
  
I take a deep breath, I know what is next on the film, and it isn't just April. I turn the projector back on, and the camera focuses on the few people sitting around on Roger's bed. It zooms in on Roger, first his face, though he is looking down, concentrating really hard. Then it moves down to his arm, where he is injecting himself.  
  
"Oh Christ, Mark, shut it off." I move quickly and I'm about to, but then he tells me not to. I look up and April is leaning over kissing Roger, he pulls her down on top of him. The camera zooms in to their faces to the point where you can't even tell what you are looking at. Suddenly it goes black and ends. "Oh man, I can't believe…"  
  
"I know, I'm sorry."  
  
"Why the hell would you film that?" He stands up and moves towards me.  
  
"I… I don't know. I'm a filmmaker, that's what I do."  
  
"Bullshit. Why would you film me shooting up?"  
  
"Because… because… I don't know. I probably didn't ever realize what you were doing."  
  
"Yeah, right. You knew exactly what was going on. You always did." I cringe at his words, but I remain silent. "Is there anymore?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is there anymore like that? How many times have you filmed me without me knowing?"  
  
"I don't know, yeah, I guess there are other ones."  
  
"Give them to me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why would you want them? Give them to me!"  
  
"Roger, they are all mixed in with my other stuff. I can't just cut out those parts without doing a big editing job."  
  
"Then give me everything."  
  
"No! Listen, I'll never show them to anyone. You know that, you can trust me."  
  
"Can I?" He picks up the box of reels and sorts through them. "Don't you label these things?"  
  
"No, I…"  
  
He pushes the box at me. "If I ever see anything like that shit again…"  
  
"Don't worry, you won't." I grip onto the box. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Whatever." He grabs his guitar and goes into his bedroom and slams the door.  
  
I rewind the film and quietly put everything away. I put the box back into my closet, making sure to put it back in the middle of the pile.  
  
I don't know why I filmed that. And there are others. He never realized I was there, and I never said a word. I was afraid to. Roger has a temper, and when he was using, he was really scary. It was mostly when he was off and looking for a fix.  
  
"Hey Mark?" He's standing by my door.  
  
"Yeah?" I pretend to pick up some laundry, acting nonchalant.  
  
"I'm sorry about getting pissed off. I'm just not really proud of my past, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, I know." We stand quietly for a few moments. "If you want, I can go and erase it all." I don't want to, but he's my best friend.  
  
"No, I have another idea." He looks at me strangely, "You aren't going to like it though."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why don't you cut together that footage and April and you could make a documentary of me and the band."  
  
"You're joking, right?"  
  
"No, I'm not. You keep saying you don't make rock videos, that you make documentaries. You have the footage. It could help me out."  
  
"No fucking way."  
  
"Mark, please?" 


	7. July

A/N: I just want to say, that I really didn't want Roger to be a bad guy. But yet, he keeps doing things that make him an ass. I like the character, I really really do. Believe me. No, I do. Sigh. Just go ahead and read.  
  
July  
  
"I'm moving out." He dropped the empty boxes on the floor around him. "Just thought you should know."  
  
"Roger, come on. You don't have to." I'm waving a magazine in my face, trying to cool down. It feels about 300 degrees in the loft.  
  
"Yeah, I do." He picks up a box and starts throwing old issues of Guitar magazine in it.  
  
"Where are you going to go?"  
  
"What, like I don't have friends?" He picks up a pile of books and looks through them. "There are lots of places for me to go."  
  
"Yeah, but where are you going?"  
  
"Doesn't matter." He grabs another empty box and glides into his room. I follow him and stand in the doorway.  
  
"Roger, come on. Can't we get past this?"  
  
"Past what? We're fine."  
"No, we're not. But we can be. Come on Roger, we're best friends."  
  
He snorts. "Are we? Could have fooled me."  
  
"Look, I'm sorry that I didn't do the documentary. I've told you before..."  
  
"...Just don't get into it again, ok? I know those images are hard for you to watch. If you are ever going to use them in a film, it is going to be your way, not trying to sell something. I've heard it before."  
  
"Roger, please understand." I stand there staring at him.  
  
"It's fine, Mark." He throws a bunch of clothes in the box. "Look, I got to go. I'll come by later and get the rest of my things." He pushes past me and grabs the other box and walks out the door.  
  
He's right though. We really aren't best friends anymore. In fact, we are hardly even friends. For two weeks after he asked me to make a documentary, all we did was fight about it. We couldn't have a conversation without him making some snide remark, or without me calling him a sellout. Everything that we had been through in the past got thrown out the window. After those two weeks, we hardly spoke at all.  
  
I'm just as guilty as he is. I was mad that he would even ask me to do that. Make a documentary about his drug use, and April's suicide, and the throw in clips of the band through the years? It astounded me that he could even ask such a thing. And it pissed him off that I said no.  
  
A slight knock disturbs me from my thoughts. "Mark?" Mimi whispers. "You ok?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." She reaches out her arms and I walk into them.  
  
"I just saw him leaving." She rubs my back, as I shake fighting back the tears. Why am I so upset? "Shh... calm down baby." She leads me over to the couch and sits me down. "Where is he going?" I shrug. "Is this permanent?" I shrug again. "Mark, what happened?"  
  
"He just came home and said he was moving out." I sit up and look in her brown eyes, "Mimi, I think our friendship is really over."  
  
"No sweetie, you just hit a road block. You guys will work through this. You have been through a lot worse." She takes my hand into her small one. "You'll be fine."  
  
I pull my hand away. "How can you say that? He has never moved out like that before!"  
  
"Uh, Santa Fe?"  
  
"Yeah, but that was different." I fall back and slouch on the couch.  
  
"How so? Because he left because of me?" She glares at me. "Mark, he came back then, he'll come back now."  
  
"No, Mimi, it's different now. Today was the first time we spoke in two weeks. All we did before that was fight about the fucking video or documentary. I let him down. He asked me to do something and I said no."  
  
"Yeah, you did. And for the first time in his life, he heard the word no from you. You stood up for what you believed in, and you can't go on doubting your decision.  
  
"I know, but."  
  
"Nope, no buts." She stands up and reaches out her arm to pull me up. "God, it is hot in here. Look, I have some extra money, why don't I take you to lunch? Someplace air conditioned."  
  
"No, I'm ok."  
  
"Mark?!" She gives me her look, a cross between demanding and pouting. A look, no man could ignore.  
  
"Fine, fine. Let's go."  
  
After lunch, I decide that I don't want to be alone, and decide to visit some old friends. I quickly leave the loft and head to the bus stop. It doesn't take too long and I'm back on the hot sidewalks. Still, the street is cooler than the loft. I think back to the last time I made this trip and how bitter cold it was. I laugh to myself and think one day I'll come when it is seventy degrees and clear. Of course, those days are far and few between in New York.  
  
I walk through the cemetery along the path that I now have memorized. I slowly approach the two headstones. The rocks that I placed back in January still sit on top, untouched by snow, wind or rain. I stand in front of them and silently read the markings on the stones. It seems like a lifetime ago that I watched Collins and Angel dancing together in the street. Yet, at the same time, it seems like yesterday.  
  
How does time slip by when the days seem so long?  
  
"Hey, Collins and Angel." I look around, startled by my own voice. I don't see anyone anywhere near me. "I... uh... I just wanted to come back and..." I feel so silly talking to the graves. I stand there silent and think. Words escape my mouth again. "I'm still not finished, Collins. The film, it still sits among a pile of notes and ideas, but nothing to glue it all together. There have been roadblocks, many many roadblocks. I know, I know, no excuses. I have just been preoccupied. I was seeing someone for a little while. Surprised, huh? Actually, you are the first person I've told. Her name is Theresa and she was really sweet. I fucked it up. Like everything else I do, I fucked it up. I let her go without even giving her a chance. I was afraid of getting hurt again."  
  
I fall down on my knees and move a little closer to Collins' grave. "The truth is Collins, everything has fallen apart. I hardly talk to Maureen or Joanne, Mimi and Roger broke up. And Roger and I, well, I don't think we are friends anymore. Something these past few months have changed in him. He has gotten obsessed with finding fame. He seems to want to try anything to get his name out there. So people will remember him, I guess. But does he want people to remember him for being a fool? I don't know, we just... we just don't connect anymore. I don't connect with anyone."  
  
I shift my position so that I'm closer to Angel. I can just imagine what she would say. "Enough of the pity party Mark! You just have to live everyday to the fullest and with as much love as possible."  
  
"Angel, I don't know if I'm capable of love anymore." I sit there again in silence. Wishing that Collins were here to give me some advice, or knock some sense into Roger. Longing for Angel to smile and just fill the room with happiness. For the millionth time, I curse the disease that took them away from me.  
  
When I can't take the heat anymore, I head back home. A cool shower, since we have no hot water anyway, motivates me to go home quickly. When I get there, Roger is sitting on the table, legs crossed, his head in his hands.  
  
"What's wrong?" He hasn't looked up, but it seems like he is crying.  
  
"They dropped us." He mumbles into his hand.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"They dropped us. The record label. Just like that, we're done." He finally looks up at me. "The band broke up. The other guys figured that we had our shot, and didn't make it. What's the sense anymore, right?"  
  
"Roger, I'm sorry."  
  
He slides off the table and starts walking towards me. His voice is monotone and his look serious. "They said we didn't have anything to make us stand out. That I was just another pretty boy front man."  
  
"Roger..."  
  
"Don't." He steps closer to me, forcing me to step backwards away from him. I can smell alcohol on his breath. "You had a chance to help us. To help me. The person you called your best friend. This was my dream and you took it away."  
  
He has me backed against the wall. "No, Roger, I didn't. It has nothing to do with me."  
  
"THE FUCK IT DOESN'T!" He slaps his hand violently around the wall, encasing me. "You just couldn't stand the thought of one of us making it. Or wait; maybe you were afraid that if you helped me, than you would make it. Then what would you have? You are so afraid of success..."  
  
I try and duck around under his arm, but he grips onto me and pushes me back. "No, you're going to listen to me. Because once I leave this place, I'm never coming back."  
  
"Roger..."  
  
He slaps his hand against the wall again, causing me to flinch. "Best friends." He laughs. "What the hell does that mean anyway? You don't care about anyone but yourself. You sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else as life passes you by. You didn't even feel that I was important enough to tell me that you had a girlfriend."  
  
I look up at him. "Yeah, I know. She called a few times. She is quite the talker."  
  
"Why... why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"No, why didn't you tell me?" He finally steps away. He walks over to the table and picks up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He raises it towards me, as if he's toasting.  
  
"You know you aren't supposed to drink when you are on the meds."  
  
He laughs at me. Ok, maybe I shouldn't have said that. "I don't give a shit. Don't you get it? My dream is dead. I have nothing to live for."  
  
Just then, Mimi walks in. "What is going on up here?" She looks around concerned and stops her gaze on Roger holding the bottle. "Oh."  
  
"Oh look, Mimi Marquez! My one true love!" He is now slurring his speech and rocking back and forth. "One true love, yeah right. I loved April a million times more than you. In fact, I never even loved you."  
  
She looks at me and shakes her head. "I'm leaving." She turns around, but he launches towards her and grabs her and kisses her, hard. She pushes him back. "Don't touch me!"  
  
"No problem. And hey, don't leave. I will." He opens the door and turns around and looks at us, "Fuck you both." With that, he's out the door.  
  
She and I just stare at each other silently. 


	8. August

A/N: Liss, you called it.  
  
August  
  
"Mimi, stop ignoring me." I follow her around the apartment, filming her back.  
  
"For the last time, turn that thing off!" She turns around and sticks her tongue out at me. "How much footage do you need, anyway?"  
  
"I don't know, until I feel like my film is finished."  
  
"Well if it isn't about me, you don't need to be sticking that thing in my face all the time."  
  
I lower my arm and hold the camera to my side, "Ok, now you are starting to sound like Maureen."  
  
"No, if I wanted to act like Maureen, I would start twirling around and posing for you." I follow her into the bedroom; she grabs a basket of laundry and pushes me out of the way. "Are you coming to the Laundromat or what?"  
  
"Well... if a certain someone would be nice enough to do it for me, I wouldn't have to." I give her the best grin I can conjure up.  
  
"Fat chance. Come on, let's go." I grab my laundry bag and follow her down the stairs. "Did you lock the door?" She turns back to me.  
  
"Oh right." I drop the bag, which is stuffed with almost every piece of clothing that I own except for the pants and t-shirt I have on. The shirt I'm wearing is actually the Well Hungarians shirt that Roger gave me. I only have it on because I have nothing clean to wear. I pull out my keys and lock the door to our apartment. Yes, ours, I moved downstairs.  
  
It happened quite innocently. The heat wave in July never broke and the loft, being the top floor, had turned into a steam bath. There was nothing I could do to cool down. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't work and I was just miserable.  
  
Mimi somehow inherited an air conditioner from Collins and Angel and even though it was really small, it made a world of difference. I just started hanging out downstairs, then I started working downstairs, and then I started sleeping downstairs. After a few weeks, most of my belongings had found their way down the two flights of stairs, and Mimi started calling me her roommate.  
  
Problem is, she only has one bedroom.  
  
So I have been sleeping with her. But not sleeping with her, we just share the bed. The nights are strange in that room though. The first night I stayed there, we were hanging out in her room, since that is where the air conditioner is, and we were just talking. The conversation, like most we have, centered on Roger. What made him act like that, where did we think he was, what was he doing, and reminiscing about the past. Something one of us said or thought made Mimi burst into tears. She lay face down on the bed, covered her face and sobbed. My initial reaction was to comfort her. I started by rubbing her back lightly, but as she got more upset, I lay next to her and held her. Soon she turned over and nuzzled my arms. We fell asleep that way, and have every night since then.  
  
The way we talk about him, it is almost as if he is dead. Neither of us has heard from him since the night he left, and we really don't expect too. The Roger we knew and loved left long before that night. With that mentality, we have given ourselves permission to become closer. Mimi has quickly filled the void of best friend that Roger vacated, but she has also filled another void.  
  
Every night, I watch her fall asleep in the moonlight. The nights seem safer now, more comfortable. As the nights pass by, my fingers have become more familiar with the texture of her hair, the curves of her hips, even the slight slant of her neck. Her lips have found their way to mine, at first, small, short, sweet, comforting kisses, but soon changing to longer, deeper kisses filled with yearning and need.  
  
Mimi has been telling me she loves me for years now. But there is something different about the way she says, "I love you, Mark," as she drifts off into sleep. As I sit up each night, running my fingers through her curls, I have to wonder if those words have changed meaning. I also have to wonder if they have changed for me. Do I want to be loved by Mimi? Do I want to love her? Do I already, and have I always?  
  
By the light of day, things are different. We go back to being buddies, comrades, and roommates. We laugh and joke around, but nothing ever turns serious. And nothing that happens after dark is mentioned. I'm completely fine with that, it makes the guilt that is building in my stomach seem more tolerable.  
  
"Mark, come on." I follow her out of the building and we walk down the street together. To people passing by, we must look like an odd pair. Mimi, with her tight, short skirt, and small top, lots of makeup and jewelry, and me, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, hair sticking up in all directions, badly in need of a shave and a haircut.  
  
We are quite different after all. I grew up in one of the richest towns in New York, in a house the size of the street we now live on. Mimi grew up in the Bronx, in a fourth floor walkup, filled with many brothers and sisters, and her single mother. Until I left home, I never wanted for anything. Mimi never had anything she wanted. I grew up listening to bands consisting of four white guys; Mimi grew up listening and dancing to Latin music, never really developing a taste for rock.  
  
In one of our late night talks, Mimi admitted to me that she never liked Roger's band, or the music they played. "I could listen to that boy sing for hours, especially when he was singing just to me, but add the electric guitar and drums, and it is just noise." She didn't look at me as she spoke, "I never told him, of course. I went to all his gigs, well, the ones he wanted me to go to, without complaint."  
  
"I didn't like them either." I admitted. "Never had. He had so much more potential than he was getting with that band."  
  
"Well maybe he is off somewhere, writing his own music." As she spoke, she moved closer to me and rested her head on my chest.  
  
We turn the corner to the Laundromat but are stopped by a small crowd circled around a struggle between two men. We stand and watch for a few seconds, trying to balance our heavy loads, trying to figure out how to get inside, without interfering. One of the men, the larger of the two, violently punches the other in the face, knocking him to the ground. He continues pounding on him, not stopping for a second. No one in the crowd moves to stop him.  
  
The man receiving the punches looks as if he as lost consciousness. The big guy doesn't even care, he continues punching. Mimi turns her back to keep from watching, and without thinking I drop my bag and move through the crowd towards them. The man punching barely notices me as I try and pull him away. Between punches I am able to finally get him to stumble back a bit, allowing the injured guy to move out of the way. The bigger one turns to me.  
  
"Mind your own business." He pushes me, knocking me back, but I keep my grounding.  
  
"Mark! Get over here, you stupid idiot!" I hear Mimi yell above the crowd.  
  
The large man looks over at her and I see him size her up. "That girl is too hot to be with you, Mark."  
  
"Just leave us alone."  
  
I turn to walk away, satisfied that I stopped him from killing the other man. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that a few people have pulled him up against the wall and are helping him.  
  
"Hey kid, you are the one that butted in. Hey! I'm not done talking to you." I feel a large hand on my shoulder forcing me to turn around. I look up at him, meeting his gaze, trying to stare him down, but all I stare down is his fist flying towards my face.  
  
I fall back and black out for a few minutes. The next thing I know, Mimi is holding me, crying and speaking Spanish to a Police Officer.  
  
"Mimi?"  
  
"Mark, baby, you ok?" I try and focus on her, but I really can't. I'm not able to open one my eyes. "An ambulance is on its way honey."  
  
"No, no, I'm fine. I can't afford..." The pain is getting to be too much. I close my eyes completely.  
  
"Baby, wake up. Come on, you can't leave me." I feel her stroke my good cheek and then warmth on the side of my face. The warm wetness forms a trail that lands at my lips. I try to return the kisses the best I can, but she laughs nervously and pulls away. I open my eyes, and see the sun blaring down at us. As the sirens of an ambulance in the distance become louder and louder, I reach up and push Mimi's hair behind her ears. I watch her, the best I can, in the sunlight. 


	9. September

September  
  
"Mark? Mark!" Mimi whispers in my ear as she lets her lips slide along it. "Have you even showered today?" She puts her hands on my shoulders and begins rubbing them.  
  
"Oh, don't ever stop." I lean back in the chair and close my eyes. "My shoulders are killing me."  
  
"Well no wonder, you being hunched over like that all day." She walks to my side and with her finger under my chin, moves my face to look into hers. "How are you doing?" She reaches out and touches my bruised cheek. I flinch away automatically.  
  
"I'm fine." I see the look of worry on her face. "No, I am." I smile at her and she smiles back at me.  
  
"Ok then, get up and showered. You're taking me out tonight!" She straddles me in the chair wrapping her arms around my neck. "I don't want to hear any excuses."  
  
"I can't. I'm really getting things done, I don't want to stop."  
  
"Mark, you have been working on the film for two weeks. I don't think you have even left the apartment." She climbs off of me and folds her arms. "Come on."  
  
"No, I... I just can't tonight. Tomorrow, ok? I promise."  
  
She gets down on her knees in front of me, "Baby, its ok to be scared. What happened to you was scary, but you have to put your behind in your past!"  
  
"Uh, don't you mean..."  
  
She shakes her head. "Where is your sense of humor? Come ooooooonnn." She tries pulling me up from the chair, but I won't budge. "Mark, please?"  
  
"No. I'm sorry, I just can't." I plead with her in my eyes. "Tomorrow, I promise."  
  
She stands and steps away from. "Well at least shower then, you stink."  
  
"Gee thanks." I roll my eyes, and go back to splicing my film.  
  
"Do you think you are almost done?"  
  
"I don't know. I think so."  
  
She ruffles my hair a little. "Well, I'm going out. Some of the girls from the Kat Scratch Klub stopped by work today and invited me to go dancing."  
  
I look up at her, worried. "The Kat Scratch Klub? But aren't those the girls you used to..." My voice drops before I finish the sentence.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Shoot up with?" I meekly say.  
  
"I'm a big girl Mark, I can take care of myself."  
  
"I know, but."  
  
"Look I'm going. Don't bother waiting up for me, I'll be home late." She leans over and kisses me quickly. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." She ruffles my hair.  
  
I nod and turn back to the table. I hear her shuffling around the apartment, yell goodbye to me, and leave.  
  
Why should I be surprised that she wants to go out? This is Mimi after all. The girl never stayed home when she was with Roger, unless she was sick. But she stopped when he left. We spent the nights talking and kissing and cuddling.  
  
After the fight, she barely left my side for a week. She would get me tea, lay next to me, and take care of me. She took care of me like no one has ever had before. It was somewhere in those seven days that I realized that I do truly love her. When she left the room, a feeling of overwhelming loneliness took over, and when she returned, a wave of comfort. We barely spoke during the week, the pain medicine I was on caused me to sleep mostly. But I know she was always there, lying next to me. Her warm breath on the back of my neck, consoling the physical pain.  
  
I haven't told her. In fact, we still haven't even discussed what is going on with us. I'm too afraid to bring it up. She probably doesn't see any reason to. I know her whole attitude of living for today and not worrying about the future or the past. But, perhaps because I'm not sick, or because I was raised different, I always worry.  
  
I worry that she doesn't feel the same way for me. I worry that she's going to get sick again. I worry that I'm going to let her down, or she is going to leave me. She is so beautiful and sexy and there are so many guys who want her. I have no reason to think that she is dedicated to me. I have never asked her to be.  
  
But most of all, I worry that I'm just a replacement of Roger. That I'm just the next best thing. I know deep down, that if he showed up again, she would go back to him. They have a connection that I could never understand. Roger used to say that the first moment he saw her entering the loft; he fell in love with her. Of course it took them a year to actually say it to each other. She made him better. I don't know how, but she did.  
  
There is one more thing that I worry about. A thing so huge, that I can't allow myself to think about. Every time I go into the room to change, I see them there. The box of condoms left over from her time with Roger. It is the one step we haven't taken, and I don't know if I can. Can I risk myself for her? Does she even want me to?  
  
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. I go over and open the door, still latched by the chain. I notice the clothes first as I move my eyes over the dark complexion that I recognize instantly. "Benny!" I fake my enthusiasm as I close the door in order to unlock it. As I open the door again he looks at me strangely.  
  
"Hey Mark, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Oh, I'm..." I look down at the ground and rub the back of my neck. "I was just doing some work."  
  
"Where's Mimi?" He walks past me and peeks into the other rooms.  
  
"She's out with some friends." I say casually. "But I'll tell her you dropped by."  
  
"Why are you here if she's not?" He looks at me confused. "And why is your phone disconnected?"  
  
"Oh, I... I moved down here."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Well, it just sort of happened over the summer because of the..."  
  
"THE SUMMER! Christ, I'm your landlord, you could have at least told me. I'm doing you guys a favor by letting you stay here for free and you move out? I could be renting that place for actual money!"  
  
"Oh, I..." I stammer not really wanting to have this conversation. "Sorry, I just..."  
  
"Where's Roger? Is he living here too?"  
  
"No, he left."  
  
"Where did he go?"  
"Don't know." I sit back down at the desk and pretend to start working again.  
  
"Did they break up?"  
  
"Who?  
"Mimi and Roger?" He looks annoyed at me.  
  
"Oh yeah, a while ago. Before she moved back in here, remember?"  
  
"Hmm... well she hasn't called me in awhile, I assumed they got back together."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Usually she calls me and we hang out, if you know what I mean." I feel my body get tense despite myself. "She doesn't have a new man already, does she?"  
  
"I... I don't know." The pencil that I'm gripping snaps in half to my surprise.  
  
"Hmm..." He looks around the place. "Where are you sleeping?"  
  
"Oh, uh in the bedroom."  
  
All of the sudden he starts laughing. "You and Mimi? No fucking way."  
  
"Its none of your business Benny."  
  
"Oh come on, you have to tell me."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Man, she is going to take you for a ride."  
  
"You don't know anything." I stand up and push the chair in, knocking it over. Benny is still laughing.  
  
"There is no way it is ever going to work for you two." He stops laughing for a second, but the smirk on his face remains. "How did you get the black eye? Mimi? Was she too rough for you in bed."  
  
"Fuck Off!" I charge towards him, but he doesn't even budge. Benny started lifting weights back in high school, and he has the strength to prove it.  
  
He continues laughing, "I'm sorry, Mark. It is just funny." He goes over to my desk and scrawls down a number. "Here, this is my new cell, when Mimi's ready for a real man again, have her call me."  
  
"Just get out."  
  
He starts laughing again, but before he leaves he looks at me. "Look, get your stuff out of the loft upstairs. If you aren't going to be staying there, I know plenty people who would like to be."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"I mean it. Latah." He glides out of the apartment.  
  
I lock the door behind him and sink back into the chair by the desk. Well one person in the world now knows. Does this change things? Does it mean that she and I can actually discuss it? I decide to wait for her to come home so we can talk.  
  
Hours later, after fighting to stay awake, I finally fall asleep on the couch. I wake up to the sounds of traffic and light blaring through the window. I wearily get off the couch and go into the bedroom. The empty bed wakes me up when I realize Mimi never came home. I start to panic and my mind races. Where the hell is she? My first thought is that she got wasted somewhere and didn't bother to come home, or maybe she hooked up with a random guy, or maybe she is sick and alone.  
  
I quickly change my clothes and brush my teeth. I grab my coat and I walk out of the apartment and Mimi is sleeping against the wall. Her eyeliner is smudged down her face, and her hair is all ratty. I crouch down. "Mimi?" She barely opens her eyes.  
  
"About fucking time!" She reaches her hand out to me and I help pull her out.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You chain locked the damn door. I couldn't get in last night. I banged and banged but you must have slept right through it."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." She waves her hand at me to let me know it is ok. She shuffles her way inside.  
  
"Where were you going?"  
  
"To look for you." I say sheepishly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I thought... I don't know."  
  
"What did you think?" She yawns and wipes her eyes.  
  
"Nothing, never mind." She looks at me cross-eyed, trying to decide if she would rather sleep or press the issue.  
  
"We'll talk later. I'm going to crash." She throws her bag on the table and few things fall out. The only thing I notice is a stash of white powder. She sees me notice it. "Mark, that's not..." I just shake my head. I don't know what to say. I don't know if I have a right. "Baby seriously, someone just asked me to hold it and I forgot to give it back." She comes over to me and reaches out, "I didn't..." I step back. "You don't believe me?"  
  
I can't look at her in the face. I don't know what to believe. "I want to." I simply say.  
  
"Then do it. Mark, I swear, I didn't." She reaches up to my face, "Look at me." I pull back again, still not able to look at her. "Look, I can't deal with this. I'm going to bed." She turns away, stuffs everything back into her bag and walks into the bedroom.  
  
Just as she's about to enter I look up at her. Her back is to me and she can't see the fear in my eyes. "Mimi," I crack, "I love you." The words escape my mouth despite my better judgment.  
  
She barely turns around and simply says, "I know, Baby." 


	10. October

October  
  
The knock on the door wakes me though I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. A white square is projected on the wall and the projector itself is spinning wildly. I look around to figure out what time it is, but I can't see the clock so I stumble over to the door and flick the light on. I rub my eyes and unlock and open the door slightly without paying attention to who is behind it. I assume it is Mimi and that she forgotten her keys again.  
  
I stumble back to the couch and fall into it. "Hey sweetie, I must have fallen asleep."  
  
"Sweetie? I'm not your sweetie."  
  
The deep familiar voice wakes me right up. I sit up and focus on Roger as he steps into the apartment, closes the door behind him and drops his guitar on the floor.  
  
"Roger? What…"  
  
"Is that how you greet your best friend?" Confused, I look up at him and stand.  
  
"Uh… I'm just surprised." I look him over, he is freshly shaved and it seems his hair is slightly damp. "What are you doing here?" My heart sinks as the realization of his sudden arrival could actually mean.  
  
"I'm home Mark. Despite what Thomas Wolf said, you can always go home, right?"  
  
"Yeah." I look at him and wide grin and settle my conflicted emotions. Roger's home. "Yeah! Welcome home!" I approach him and he gives me a bear hug. Wrapping my arms around him, I can feel how much skinnier he is.  
  
"It's great to see you, Mark. I missed this place so much." He looks around the apartment. "Where's Mimi?"  
  
"Oh she's at work. She started back at the Kat Scratch Klub last week."  
  
"Really? Is she… ok?"  
  
"Yeah, we just nee… uh, she just needed some more money."  
  
He nods knowingly, walking through the apartment and taking everything in. My presence in the apartment is obvious. Besides the projector still spinning out of control, and the pile of film reels and videos, there are just little bit of remnants that I'm there on a full time basis.  
  
I watch Roger pick up my copy of They Might Be Giant's Pink Album, a tape Mimi would never have in her collection and one that I listen to a lot when I am working. He stares at it for a second and looks up at me. "Are you living here now?"  
  
"Uh," I rub the back of my neck, a habit I have when I'm nervous. "Kind of, yeah."  
  
"Why?" He nods as he walks around to the couch. "Has Mimi been sick?"  
  
"No, no… I just… we've just gotten closer these past few months."  
  
Roger nods again, not making any connection. Like most people, the possibility of Mimi and me together doesn't even cross his mind. "Good, I'm glad you have been there for her. How is she doing?"  
  
"She's fine, you know Mimi."  
  
"Yeah." He smiles, and then sits up seriously. "I'm here to get her back. God Mark, I didn't know until I was gone much I really love her. She is just," he pauses and sighs, "She's everything to me, you know?" I nod silently. "But damn, I was such an ass to her, do you think she'll ever forgive me?" I shrug and remain quiet.  
  
Despite myself, I tense up and feel annoyed. I don't know what I want from him. He hasn't apologized to me or explained himself. He thinks he can waltz right in and get Mimi back without question. He hasn't even asked me how I'm doing.  
  
So without thinking it through, I take a deep breath and spout out, "I think she is seeing someone actually."  
  
"Who? Benny? Benny isn't a problem."  
  
"No not Benny, someone new."  
  
He laughs, "It doesn't matter. I don't mean to sound full of myself, but whatever she could possibly have with someone else, it would never compare to what we had." He looks at me and his crystal blue ices shine with hope, "I'm going to ask her to marry me."  
  
"What?" I stand up, "No! You… you can't. Jesus Roger, she is finally moving on. How many times can you hurt her? Or me?"  
  
"You? What do you have to do with it?" I shake my head and turn away, squeezing my eyes to release the tears that want to escape. "Mark, what's going on?"  
  
I turn around and look at him. I take a deep breath, "Just a lot has changed since you left. She and I… she and I have made our peace with you and here you are storming back and thinking everything can go back to the way things were." I walk towards him and he flinches back. "Where the hell were you? Where did you go? Why didn't you call to let us know you were ok?"  
  
He shakes his head. "I know, I know. I fucked up, ok? I was so mad for so long. But I realize none of that matters now."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The music, the fame, it was like a poison, an addiction. Once I got a taste of it I wanted more and more. Just like when I was using. I didn't care who I hurt, I just had to get a bigger hit." He laughs at his pun, "If you get my meaning."  
  
"So what changed?"  
  
He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. "Failure, I guess. Those first few months I was wallowing in self-pity. I drank a lot and I almost used many times. But then after a few month, the self-pitying turned to loneliness. I had no one anymore. Not a girlfriend, and not a best friend. I was so mad at you, you know? I couldn't face the notion that maybe you were right. I just wanted to be famous so bad, I didn't care how." He looks me in the eyes, "Mark, I'm sorry. I know it is going to take some time to fix things with us, and with Mimi, but… I don't know how much time I have left."  
  
"Left? What do you mean?"  
  
He looks away. "God, I didn't want to lay all this out so fast." He sighs, "I got sick last month. Really sick. I was playing at an open mike and suddenly felt awful. I passed out on stage and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital."  
  
"Oh God." I back up into a chair because I feel like the wind just got knocked out of me.  
  
"I was there for over a week and they gave me every test you can imagine." His face grows somber, "The spinal tap was the worse I think. Turns out, I have some sort of cancer that I can't even pronounce."  
  
"What?"  
  
He nods. "So as soon as they kicked me out, I came straight back to New York." He covers his eyes and wipes the tears. "I never felt so alone in my life. No one cared about me. The nurses were afraid to touch me, they act like what I am. A walking infection."  
  
"Roger…"  
  
He takes a deep breath and I see the tears falling. I go over to him and put my arm around him and let him cry into my shoulder. His thin body quivers as I hold him. "I'm sorry Mark, please forgive me…"  
  
"I do Roger… I do…"  
  
Just then the door opens. Roger's back is to the door, but he sits up quickly and wipes his eyes with his wrists. "Baby, I'm home!" I watch her stop short as she sees him sitting on the couch. "Roger."  
  
He gets up slowly and walks over to her. His emotions are still on high gear and he barely whispers, "I'm sorry." She looks at him shocked as he stumbles into her arms. "I'm so so sorry."  
  
"Shh… Roger, it is ok. It's ok." She holds him the best she can as he breaks down into her arms. They stay like that for a long time.  
  
I don't know what to do. I stand up and clear my throat, "Uh, I'll let you guys be alone for a while."  
  
"Mark, sweetie, you don't have to." Mimi looks up at me with sadness in her eyes.  
  
"No, no, you two should talk." I grab my coat and walk towards the door. "I'll be back in a little while."  
  
I walk out and as I'm about to leave the building I hear Mimi call my name. She runs down the stairs after me. "Does he know?"  
  
"Know what?" I ask naively.  
  
"About us?"  
  
"Us? Is there an us?"  
  
"Mark, don't start. Did you tell him that you love me?" She asks me the question like it is a sin. I simply shake my head once. "Good." She looks up at the door, "He doesn't look good."  
  
"Yeah, look, you better go talk to him."  
  
"Mark, you know I care about you, right?" I nod silently again. "Ok, good." She squeezes my hand gently. "Why don't you come back in an hour?"  
  
"Sure, sure, fine." I watch her bolt up the stairs and back into Roger's arms.  
  
I don't know how long I walked around for. I know it was longer than an hour. The sun was beginning to peak over the city. I went and sat in the Life Café. Where else really? Always open, twenty-four seven. I sat at a window seat and sipped my tea. I had just enough change on my to get a never-ending cup, and even leave a twenty-five cent tip.  
  
I slowly sipped two cups staring out the window. The only other people walking around were the ones that had no place to go. The ones who live in the shadows of the city. I found myself wondering if they loved anyone. Was there someone out there wondering where they were and if they would ever come home? Were the people they left behind able to carry on without them? Have they moved on? Were they able to stop loving them? Did the wanderers care?  
  
After the caffeine and sugar wired me enough, and the tea warmed me, I walked back to the loft. I took the long way. I was afraid of what I would find.  
  
But I'm here now. I took a deep breath and made myself go home. I've been standing outside the door listening, but I haven't heard anything. I quietly knock as I open the door. I keep my eyes shut worried to what I would find.  
  
When I open them, I see Roger on one knee.  
  
Mimi is standing, a look of shock on her face.  
  
They turn and look at me.  
  
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." I stutter my words and stare at them. Roger is holding Mimi's hands. I wonder if he already asked or if he was getting ready too.  
  
Mimi pulled her hands away. "Mark, it is ok. We were just…"  
  
"Mark knows." Roger smiles as he stands up. "I told him before."  
  
"Oh. And you are ok with it?"  
  
I stand still. Frozen.  
  
"Of course he is." He goes back to Mimi, "Does that mean you say yes?"  
  
"No. I mean… Mark?" She walks towards me. "Baby, it isn't what you think."  
  
I smile. I take a deep breath. "Congratulations."  
  
"No! Mark." She takes my hand. "I didn't say yes."  
  
"Baby?" Roger interrupts. "That's the second time I've heard you call him that." He steps back and looks at us and then around the room. "What is going on with you two?"  
  
Neither of us answers him.  
  
Our silence answers his question.  
  
"Oh. I see." His face turns red almost instantly. "Well isn't that sweet. How long did you wait until I was out of town?"  
  
"Roger, it wasn't like that. It just happened." Mimi pleads with him.  
  
"What just happened? Mark just happened to betray his best friend? Or did you just happen to be the slut I always knew you were?"  
  
"That's enough." I step towards him. "Roger, I'm sorry. I didn't betray you. You said you were never coming back!"  
  
"If you knew me at all…" He now takes a step close to me. His face is next to mine. "If you knew me at all, you knew I would come back. I always fucking come back!" He pushes me.  
  
I stumble back and I realize that he is right. I knew he would show up one day. I knew this day would come. "I'm sorry, Roger."  
  
"Roger, honey, listen…" Mimi takes her turn.  
  
"Don't Roger honey me. You disgust me. You both do."  
  
"What happened to fixing everything that went wrong? You just told me you love me a few minutes ago." She points to where they were when he proposed.  
  
"And you said it back!" He bellows, sending him into a coughing fit.  
  
"Roger, sit down." I reach out and try to guide him to the couch but he pushes me away.  
  
Mimi takes Roger's hand, and holds mine with the other. "I do love you, Roger. But I love Mark too."  
  
We both pull are hands away at the same time.  
  
"I don't know what to do."  
  
"Easy. You and Mark can continue to live happily ever after. I'm out of here."  
  
"No!" She steps in front of him. "You just got out of the hospital. You are still sick. You aren't leaving here until you are better. And until we figure things out."  
  
"I'll leave then." I say softly. "You two deserve a chance to work things out."  
  
"No Mark, this is your home. You are staying."  
  
"I'm not living with him. No fucking way." Roger interjects.  
  
"I'll go stay with Maureen and Joanne for awhile."  
  
"You haven't even talked to them in months." She pulls me aside. "Baby, you don't have to go."  
  
"Why haven't you ever told me?" I ask seriously.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That you love me?"  
  
"I tell you every night." She says exasperated.  
  
"Yeah but, you never say it back to me. Just, 'I know'."  
  
"Mark, this isn't the time."  
  
"Yeah it is. This is the perfect time. You don't really love me. You love him. You two belong together."  
  
"No, I won't let you make this decision for me."  
  
"Mimi, there is no decision to be made. It's over."  
  
I walk towards the door.  
  
"Mark, no."  
  
I look at her and then I look at Roger. "I'm sorry." 


	11. November

A/N: I combined the two October's into one chapter. Only one more to go, plus the epilogue.  
  
  
  
November  
  
"Mark? You here?"  
  
I lay still on the couch, pretending to be asleep.  
  
"Mark honey. You sick again?"  
  
She comes around and sits next me on the couch. I open one eye and look at her.  
  
"No, I'm ok, Theresa. Just tired."  
  
She leans down and kisses me. Her lips are soft and warm. Her kisses feel nice. Safe. But not the same.  
  
"Come on Mark, let's go out tonight. The guys at the restaurant really want to hang out with you. It'll be fun."  
  
"I don't know T. I'm just not up for it."  
  
"All you have done since you showed up here is mope around. Come on," She brushes my hair off my forehead, "For me?"  
  
I nod and give her a half smile. "Let me just shower, ok?"  
  
"Yay!" She jumps up and claps.  
  
I reach out my hand and she helps pull me off the couch. She basically pushes me towards the bathroom.  
  
The hot water hits me and I stand there for a long time. I don't know how I got here. That night after I left Mimi's apartment I wandered around the city until the sun finally came up. I walked uptown until I found myself outside the restaurant. I stood there looking inside for a minute. I watched Theresa setting up tables for lunch, laughing hard. That was what I liked most about her, I remembered. Her laugh. Before I could think it through I lifted my hand and knocked on the glass.  
  
She came right out and gave me a hug. She dragged me into the restaurant, sat me down, got me some food and we talked. She filled me in on her life. She had been working full time and they made her assistant manager. Which meant no more waiting tables and more behind the scenes work. She was dating someone, but she was quick to tell me it wasn't serious. I could tell that she still liked me.  
  
I still liked her too. It was different. There was passion there; I wasn't scared of her like I was with Mimi. I gave her an explanation for my sudden reappearance and told her I had no place to go. She insisted I stay with her.  
  
So here I am. Content, I guess. I don't allow myself to think about Mimi and Roger. I have been able to block it out completely. I can almost imagine that this is where I have always been.  
  
I'm fooling myself, of course. Every night when I go to sleep, I dream of her. Or him. I dream that Roger and I are still friends, and that Mimi and I are together. I wake up and stare at Theresa, and I wish she were someone else.  
  
And I hate myself for it.  
  
"Mark! Why don't you go buy a pitcher for us! We'll find a table!"  
  
"Ok!" I yell over the loud music. Techno. I hate techno. I hate dance clubs. How did I wind up here? I fight my way to the bar. I stand there for a minute waiting for one of the bartenders to notice me. Of course, they notice the girls in the tight sleeveless shirts first.  
  
"What can I getcha?"  
  
"A pitcher of Bud, please." I shout over the crowd.  
  
"Hey Roger, can you pull a pitcher of Bud for this guy?" The bartender looks back at me, "He'll help you." He then moves over to help the blonde next to me.  
  
A few seconds later, "Who wanted the pitcher?" Our eyes meet. The first time in a month that Roger and I see each other.  
  
"Uh… me."  
  
He glares at me. And stands up straight. "Here." He barely looks at me. I go to hand him money, "Its on me. Just don't come back here, ok?"  
  
"Roger, can't we…"  
  
"Just get out of my face, Mark." The way he says my name is filled with such venom.  
  
I nod and turn around quickly. I feel my heart racing. When I look up Theresa is standing in front of me. "Hey, I thought you got lost!" She kisses me, and I can feel Roger's eyes staring at us.  
  
"Come on, let's get out of here." I spit out.  
  
"Why? We just got here. Karla and Matt are already dancing." She pouts to me, "Come on Mark, you promised me." She yells over the music.  
  
I take a deep breath. I can barely explain myself, so I don't bother. I follow her to the table and promptly pour myself a cup. I drink it in one fowl swoop. Then I pour another and drink it almost as fast.  
  
"Whoa, slow down, Mark. You are going to make yourself sick."  
  
I shrug. "Yeah, and?" I snap back.  
  
"Listen, I don't know what your problem is but snap out of it."  
  
"What my problem is?" I shout and stand up. "I don't want to fucking be here! That is my problem!"  
  
"You promised me."  
  
"Look, you know I hate these places. If you had any consideration at all…"  
  
"Fine! Then go!" She looks like she is about to cry, but I don't care.  
  
"Fine! I will! I'm outta here." I storm away.  
  
"MARK!" I hear her shout over the crowd. I stop and don't turn around. "Just get your stuff and leave. I'm sick of dealing with your fucking moods all the time."  
  
I turn around, "Fine. I was only using you anyway."  
  
"Fuck off." She yells, just as the music stops. Everyone in the club turns to look at us.  
  
I turn around and walk away. But I'm stopped. I feel an arm pull me, hard. "Roger, not now, ok?"  
  
"Yes now." He pulls me to the back of the club into a room and slams the door. The noise is mostly muted. He pushes me against the wall and walks across the room. We stand in silence.  
  
"Look, Roger, I'm…"  
  
"Sorry, yeah, I know." He rolls his eyes. "I don't care."  
  
I look at the ground, "Then what do you want?"  
  
He takes a deep breath. "Mimi's sick."  
  
I look up at him. "What?"  
  
"Why the hell do you think I'm working here? She and I need the money. Not a week goes by without one of us needing a doctor."  
  
"Roger, I can help…"  
  
"No. I don't want your help. You could have helped me before and you didn't and then you tried to take Mimi from me. When were you going to finally be happy? When I was dead and you and Mimi were dancing on my grave?"  
  
"No… it just happened Roger."  
  
"I don't care. And I don't want you to come by and see her."  
  
"Then why did you tell me?" I ask seriously.  
  
He shrugs and his stern looks disappears for a moment, but then, just as quick his expression changes. "Because I want you to suffer and know you can't help her."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm the one she needs and wants. Not you. No matter how you try and ruin my life, I won. I got the girl."  
  
"Roger, no, I wasn't."  
  
"Fuck off Mark. Just stay out of my life. And Mimi's"  
  
I stand there for a moment. "OK." I whisper.  
  
I walk out of the room, and the club. I wander aimlessly down the street. Homeless and friendless once again. 


	12. December

December  
  
I left the city for a few weeks. I visited my mother, borrowed some money from her and went to California. I figured that as a filmmaker I needed to see Hollywood first hand.  
  
I came back to New York in two weeks.  
  
People call New York dirty, but L.A. is the really dirty city. You can feel the corruption and desperation all around you. Hollywood changed from a tourist town to sin city with the sunset. At least in New York, what you see is what you get.  
  
So I'm back. I even found a new place to stay. A small apartment with two roommates in Chelsea. It is ok. I'm slowly starting over. A fresh start.  
  
I finished my film too.  
  
Once I figured out that the film was about me, and not about Angel, or Roger, or Mimi or even AIDS it was easy. The documentary was my life and my friends, and I was the main character, even though I barely appeared on screen.  
  
So with everything getting better in my life, I have to wonder how I ended up here, the vacant lot next to the apartment, waiting for Mimi to leave.  
  
First I see Roger leave. He looks around casually before lighting a cigarette. I hide against the wall, hoping he doesn't notice me.  
  
Mimi comes out a few minutes later. She is wrapped in the same coat she was wearing the night we met. She looks too looks around casually and I watch her cough. She walks away in the opposite direction.  
  
"Mimi?" I yell across the street. She glances over her shoulder quickly and then stops and turns around.  
  
"Mark!" She comes right over to me and wraps her thin arms around my neck. She rests her head against my chin. "Mark…" She whispers as I stroke her hair.  
  
I nod, as our simple hug turns into a desperate embrace. The feelings I pushed away, the ones I convinced myself were gone, flood back to the surface. As I take in her scent and the feel of her tiny frame, I feel myself fall in love all over again.  
  
But then she pulls away and hits me. "Where have you been?"  
  
"I… I had to get away." I stutter, studying her face.  
  
"You lied to me." She says desperately.  
  
"What do you mean?" I step to the side as new customers enter the diner.  
  
"You told me you would always be there for me."  
  
"I know…"  
  
"I needed you, Mark."  
  
My heart breaks as I realize that I hurt her.  
  
"You and your fucking pride. I didn't want you to go that night."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mimi." I take her hand and pull her close to me again. "I'm so sorry."  
  
She smiles at me and pulls me out over to the door. "I know, Baby. I know." As soon as we get inside she pulls me to her and kisses me.  
  
I return her kiss, but pull back and look around. "What about?"  
  
"Shh…" She shushes me and kisses me again, pushing me against the wall by the stairs. This time I don't fight her off. Her lips move away from my face and onto my cheek, my ear, and then my neck. I momentarily forget all of our problems. But when her kisses begin to get too much for me, I have to push her away.  
  
"Mimi, no. Come on, shouldn't we, you know, talk?"  
  
"Fine, let's go." We start walking up towards the apartment.  
  
"What about Roger?"  
  
She rolls her eyes. "Haven't you figured it out?" She stops and looks down at me. "I love you. Not him. I want to be with you. Now. No more waiting." She takes my hands and lifts them to her mouth and kisses them softly. "I need you, Mark. I'm not going to let you walk out of my life again. Not now."  
  
"Am I dreaming?" I ask out loud.  
  
"Well if you are, it has been a hell of a nightmare."  
  
I laugh at her joke and then grow serious. "I love you, too." She smiles. "But what about Roger? It would kill him if he found out."  
  
"Let me worry about Roger. Besides, he is working a double today. But we aren't together. We're friends. The best of friends. He still loves me, and a part of me will always love him, but we aren't right for each other. We fight all the time, have since day one. Lust can only take you so far, you know?"  
  
"I guess." She pulls me into the apartment. I look around and Roger's things are sprawled all over, and it is apparent that someone has been sleeping on the couch. "You know, I saw him last month, right?"  
  
She nods. "He said you were with that Theresa girl." She looks away for a second, "Are you still?"  
  
I shake my head, "Nah, we ended it that night, in fact. I just couldn't love her the way I…"  
  
She steps closer to me. "Yeah, I know." She reaches up and touches my face. "I didn't think I would ever see you again. I thought, that time was going to run out."  
  
"Run out?" I stop for a second, "Roger said you were sick, what is…" She stops my question by kissing me and I quickly forget what I was saying. She reaches under my shirt and runs her fingers along my back and again starts kissing my ears and neck. Before I know it, my shirt is off and then so is hers.  
  
We somehow made it to the bedroom. The actual lovemaking was slow and sweet and unlike anything I ever experienced before. As I lie her now holding her naked body close to my own, I find the happiness and satisfaction I have been searching for my whole life.  
  
I knew it was too good to last.  
  
I wake up to a feeling of cold over my body. I quickly notice that Mimi is no longer next to me, and the bedroom door is open. I sit up and hear her coughs muffled from the other room. I quickly put my pants on and rub my arms for heat, and walk towards the bathroom. I stand next to the door and listen to her hack away.  
  
"Mimi? You ok?"  
  
She responds by coughing. I try the door, but it is locked. "Mimi, let me in."  
  
"I'm fine," cough, "Don't" cough, "Worry."  
  
"I'm worried. Please Baby, let me in." I let my fear come through my voice and I hear her approach the door and open it. She is soaked with sweat and much paler than usual. "Mimi, what's wrong?" She just shakes her head and continues coughing. I reach out to her and can tell instantly she has a fever. "I'm calling the hospital."  
  
"No!" She yells between coughs. "This happens all the time. It will pass."  
  
"Fuck that. You need to see a doctor."  
  
I leave the bathroom and pick up the phone. I dial 911 and ask them to send an ambulance over. I go back to Mimi and help her out of the bathroom. "Roger…" She spats out "Leave a note for him."  
  
I sit her down and do as I'm told.  
  
A few hours later, Mimi is hooked up to machines and half awake. They gave her something to break the fever, but the coughs are still steady and fast. Apparently, this isn't the first time this month she has visited the hospital. Most of the nurses know her, and are surprised to see me with her and not Roger. In fact, they all ask where Roger is and how is he doing.  
  
I sit next to her bed and hold her hand. She has her eyes closed and the only sound in the room is the light buzz of one of the monitors she is hooked up to. I look at the clock on the wall, only nine. Roger doesn't even get off of work for five more hours. Five more hours of Mimi belonging only to me.  
  
"I love you." I stroke her hand, "I think I always have."  
  
She turns her lips up the best she can. "I know." She chokes out.  
  
"Shh… don't talk, just listen." She closes her eyes and nods. "I finally finished my film, you know. I can't believe it. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself anymore. I can't wait for you to see it."  
  
"Mark…"  
  
"Shh…"  
  
"No, Mark. You have to face the facts. I'm dying. I don't have too much time left." She clearly says.  
  
I look away from her, squeezing the tears from my eyes. "No…"  
  
"Baby, I've been on borrowed time for years. It's ok. I'm ready." She weakly clutches my hand, "Everything I ever wanted I've had."  
  
"No, Mimi. Just stop."  
  
"Shh…" Now she is shushing me. With all my power I battle my tears, but I am defenseless.  
  
"Why didn't I come back sooner? If I had know that you…"  
  
"Don't. You know now." She turns to me. "Just hold me, ok?"  
  
I nod and climb into the bed next to her. I carefully wrap my arms around her small frame. She rubs my back and comforts me until we both fall asleep.  
  
A nurse comes in and awakens me. She tells me I have to leave the room, that visiting hours were long over. I argue and fight with her, and she tells me I'm just as stubborn as the other guy. She agrees to let me stay, but I have to stay in the chair.  
  
Mimi barely sleeps, either her own coughing fits waking her up fiercely, or her roommates coughing. I hold her hand and get her water and comfort her the best I know how.  
  
"I just want to see if she is ok!" The familiar voice echoes through the silenced halls. Roger's here. I take a deep breath and leave Mimi, who is temporarily asleep. He sees me in the doorway.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Hi Roger."  
  
"Get out of my way, I need to see her."  
  
"She's sleeping, Roger. Let her sleep."  
  
"Don't you fucking tell me what to do."  
  
The nurse stands between us. "Fine, one at a time."  
  
Roger pushes me out of the way and goes in. The nurse sheepishly shrugs at me. I take a deep breath and sit down.  
  
I flip through a magazine, not even looking at the pages I turn. My mind races as I finally get a chance to digest what happened today. How happy I was, and how scared I feel now. She seemed so certain when she told me she was dying. It was like she knew it was going to be sooner than later.  
  
And the fact was, it was true. She's dying in there. Obviously, she has been this close too many times. Somehow, this morning, I knew. That is why I had to see her. I knew her time was running out.  
  
"Ahem." Roger clears his throat as he stands over me. "She wants to talk to you."  
  
I quickly stand up. "Is she?"  
  
He silently nods. He knows what I was going to ask, "I think so."  
  
I walk into the room and over to the far side of her bed. Roger follows me in and stands on the other. I take Mimi's left hand and he takes her right. "Mimi…"  
  
"Shh..." Her voice is soft and slow. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too." I whisper.  
  
"I love you too." Roger whispers.  
  
He and I look up at each other. Mimi takes each of our hands and lifts them to make them take each other over her bed. "I love you both. And you love each other. You need to forgive each other. After I'm gone, it won't matter who loved who anymore." She starts coughing.  
  
At the same time we drop our hands from each other. "Mimi, don't talk." Roger pleads. "We'll do anything you want. I promise"  
  
"Be there for each other." She says simply. She lets out one more cough and closes her eyes. I know immediately that has died. All the life in her face has drained.  
  
"No." I stand there, taking her hand into mine. "No, Mimi. Wake up. Please." I look up at Roger and he just shakes his head, tears falling from him eyes. "Mimi, please."  
  
"Mark. Stop it. She's dead."  
  
The doctors then rush in and push Roger and me out of the way. A quick run of her vitals and they pronounce her dead. So simple and easy. The body that lies there still was once so full of life. She hardly had begun to live.  
  
Roger storms out of the room. I follow him. "Roger, we should…"  
  
"No. Just stay out of my life, Mark."  
  
"But you just promised her."  
  
"I told her what she wanted to hear." He turns and looks back at me. "Look, take care of yourself, ok?"  
  
I nod and watch him run down the hallway. For all I know he is going to drink, or shoot up, or hurt himself some other way. But I just stand there. I don't have the energy to go after him, to take care of him. I don't know how to take care of myself anymore. 


	13. Epilogue: January

My boots crunch through the freshly fallen snow, covering my tracks from yesterday. Another visit to the cemetery. This time was more for Collins than Mimi. The two-year anniversary. As I walk, I wonder how things would be different if Collins had been around this past year. Would he have forced Roger and I to talk? Would he have knocked some sense into Roger about his music and selling out? Or would he have tried to convince me to help my best friend? Would Maureen and I be on speaking terms? Would Mimi and I ever…  
  
Mimi. It has been less than a month since she died and I still see her everywhere. I remember when April died and Roger's reaction, and I now I understand. The world just doesn't seem real anymore. Life just doesn't move on without her. She was life.  
  
Just when I'm about to reach the gravestones, my path meets up with another's footsteps and as I get closer I hear a guitar strumming. I keep walking; close enough to see Roger, sitting on his guitar case on its side, playing a song I had never heard before.  
  
"I wanted perfection from every song I've ever sung  
  
But that was wrong  
  
And I wanted something from every person I've ever loved  
  
But that was wrong  
  
And I've changed, I've changed  
  
I've reconsidered everything  
  
I'm fine now, I'm fine now  
  
I laid the barrel in my mouth  
  
And everything I thought before  
  
I won't think anymore  
  
1 I've changed, I've changed  
  
I wanted to be the greatest at everything  
  
But I can't be  
  
And I wanted to be exempt from temptation  
  
But I can't be  
  
And I wanted your love to be everlasting  
  
But it isn't  
  
I wanted life to be an easier proposition  
  
But it isn't  
  
And I've changed, I've changed  
  
I've reconsidered everything  
  
I'm fine now, I'm fine now  
  
I laid the barrel in my mouth  
  
And everything I thought before  
  
I won't think anymore  
  
I've changed, I've changed"  
  
As he sings I move closer to him, but he has his eyes close and doesn't see me. When he strums the last chord, I take a deep breath, "Roger." I whisper."  
  
He looks up at me, sternly at first and then softer. "Hey." He says, as he stands up and puts his guitar away.  
  
"Roger, that song…"  
  
He just shrugs, "It's ok."  
  
"No, it is more than ok. I haven't heard a song like that from you since…"  
  
"Your Eyes. Yeah, I know. Actually, I'm pretty proud of it. I am going to see this guy today about putting it on a CD."  
  
I roll my eyes despite myself. "Still trying to make it big, huh?"  
  
"Forget it." He grabs his guitar and starts walking away.  
  
"Roger, wait. I'm sorry."  
  
He looks at me for a second. "Me too."  
  
"No, I mean, I'm sorry for just saying…oh." I realize that he is apologizing. "Yeah."  
  
"I know I fucked up. I just wanted something of my own so bad. Whether it was my song, or Mimi. I don't know."  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't help you."  
  
"Nah, I know why you didn't. And I know that you didn't plan on falling for Mimi."  
  
"Well, she was hard to resist." I smile.  
  
"Yeah." He nods.  
  
"So, are we ok?" I ask, timidly.  
  
He nods. "Yeah."  
  
I smile at him and reach out my hand. He smiles back and takes it and we pull each other in for a hug.  
  
After we step apart, we both walk back towards the gravestones. "I really do like that song, by the way."  
  
He nods. "Thanks. This CD I'm trying to get on is for an AIDS charity. I won't make a dime, but who knows, maybe it will help find a cure."  
  
"Maybe!" I grin at him. I thin squat down in front of Mimi's gravestone. "Hey Mimi. Look, you did bring Roger and me back together. It took some time, but we are ok."  
  
"Yeah, we are." He says. "Come on, I'll be you some coffee."  
  
"I don't drink coffee." I look at him sideways.  
  
"It's a fucking expression! Come on!" He puts his arm around me and drags me away. "She'll survive without you for a day."  
  
"I guess, but will I?"  
  
"Yeah, you got me now."  
  
"Hmm. Does this mean I can move back to the apartment?"  
  
"We'll have to see about that." He smirks at me. "Yeah, come home, Mark."  
  
  
  
The End.  
  
  
  
A/N: The song above was written by the Josh Joplin Group. I had heard it last summer when I was writing Community and automatically thought of Roger, so I'm thrilled to be able to insert it here. You should all go check out their CD Useful Music. Anyway, that's it. Hope you enjoyed. 


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